


Heartbreak Mentality

by Knightqueen



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Drama, Family Drama, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Rating: PG13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightqueen/pseuds/Knightqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen Armstrong is a recovering agoraphobic, blessed with the good fortune of owning a 1967 Ford Mustang. When it goes missing, he becomes an unwilling player in the game of cat and mouse between Decepticon Hunters and Autobots in hiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Accidents Happen

**Disclaimer:**  Transformers, and all things related to the franchise, are property of its many respected owners. "Stay (Wasting Time)" is property of Dave Matthews Band. All rights Reserved. Original characters and storyline are property of the Author, all rights reserved.

**Authors Note (7/15/07):**  This is the second and last of my  _Transformers Movieverse_  stories. I attempted to make it a ONE-SHOT, but it refused to be such and thus I have a rahter lengthy story. Its' pretty long and despite what you may think, was not rushed in anyway. This is how the story came to me. This one focuses more on an OC character with a name taken from a novel written by  **Sarah Dessen**. Another thing I should note is that I have not had the chance to read the prequel comic beyond a summary (which honestly cleared up a lot of things for me). I'm assuming that the movie takes place in the year 2007 and that Bumblebee and the Deceptions have been on earth for a total of five years searching for the All Spark if they arrived in 2003. I am also unsure of which state Sam Witwicky resides (Nevada or Arizona?). Nevertheless I hope you enjoy it. As always, no flames (don't like it, leave immediately), constructive criticism only.

* * *

**Prologue: Accidents Happen**

* * *

**(March 6, 2006; Nevada Desert):**

* * *

Thunder roared overhead the Nevada desert highway, rain fell hard against the mangled frame of an upside vehicle unlucky enough to become a victim of 'road rage'. Barricade bore down at his comrade's handiwork with indifference. Bonecrusher had not used his usual amount lethal force and thus the pitiful creature inside had survived, just barely. The fleshbag's screams had filled his receptors, nearly drowning out the rain drumming against his armor. It had fallen silent when Barricade had decided to inspect him, with every intention of doing the silencing himself. 

The mangled fleshbag nearly choked on his own tongue at the sight of him and proceeded into unconsciousness when Barricade poked him with his clawed finger. "Why did you attack the vehicle? Blackout had it taken care of," Barricade said. It wasn't that the Decepticon cared, quite the contrary, but the less attention they brought to themselves the better. Bonecrusher shrugged giving the car a kick. "It was in my way. The car hindered me, and in turn, allowed the protoforms to escape us," Bonecrusher hissed raising a foot. He planned to end the life of the human being completely; Barricade caught his leg on the way down and shoved him back. "Leave the fleshbag. According to Frenzy, its demise should be in a timeframe of five minutes," The Decepticon growled. 

Bonecrusher reserved the urge to pull Barricade's arms from his sockets, he leaned forward into the face of his 'comrade' and growled. "I should care, because? Do not deny me the pleasure of killing these pitiful creatures, lest you wish to become my enemy," Bonecrusher snarled. Barricade did not bother to answer the transformer's threat; instead, he reverted to his vehicle mode. Bonecrusher continued to glare down at the tattered vehicle until Blackout flew overhead of him and dropped Frenzy off. The tiny machine shook his fist angrily at the car before scrambling over to Barricade's open door. Bonecrusher cast a wary glance upon the wet desert terrain, his eyes focused on the upturned earth still smoking from the crash landing protoforms. They had received news from Starscream that two more meteorites were approaching the area Barricade and Bonecrusher were patrolling, and that they were possible Decepticons.

However, given the protoforms hasty retreat upon their discovery, the Decepticons were now sure they were no ally of theirs. More Autobots had landed on earth, most likely to aid in the search for the All Spark as well. While one Autobot worked to their advantage, three was not a number they anticipated nor welcomed. He prayed to their lost leader, Megatron that their intelligence mainframes were scrambled beyond repair. Perhaps the human faction, Sector 7, would make short work of them if they ever crossed paths. "Bonecrusher, we're leaving," Barricade announced sharply. Bonecrusher transformed back into the Buffalo mine protected vehicle and followed Barricade down the stretch of road, while Blackout headed back the military base he took up as a hiding place.

Elsewhere, the two protoforms found themselves crouching in a ditch, monitoring the activity of the retreating Decepticons. "We've got to get a new travel agent," One muttered dryly. The smallest transformer ignored her friend's comment as she let out a sigh of relief. The Decepticons had almost captured them, and it was a strange and terrible blessing that there was something in Bonecrusher's way. "We should go now. I swear to Primus himself, I'm beginning to rust and we need to find the appropriate disguises if we're to help my commander," She said. The largest protoform made no move to follow his retreating comrade, his blue optics focused entirely on the body hanging upside down in the mangled vehicle. "Bumblebee can take of himself for a while. What about the human?" 

The smallest protoform gave her comrade an undeserved whack on the head. "Didn't you hear Barricade? He has not got long to live. His vitals are dangerously low, not mention lost quite a lot of fluid. He will not last night," The second protoform, responded harshly, hoping reason would overtake her friend's overly sympathetic spark.

"If Ratchet were here, he'd help this human," The largest protoform argued, rubbing his throbbing head.

"If Ratchet were here, he'd tell the you same thing I just did!" She proclaimed. Her friend looked away, clenching his fists; a sure sign that he was about to do something foolish. The smallest protoform's eyes softened. "Please, friend. Now's not the time to be making hot headed decisions!" She tugged on her comrade's arm in order to further her point. The protoform sighed in dismay, as much as he knew his friend was right, he could not bring himself to leave the human dying in the middle of nowhere. Doomed to die or not, he deserved better. "All right, all right, we'll leave," He said, resigned. 

"Thank you R-" 

"But, as soon as we find the appropriate disguises, we're coming back. I can't leave him out here." 

"But - he'll be dead by then! No course of action will fix his fate," 

A look of determination crossed the Autobot's face. "Maybe not, but I can't just leave him there. Could you?" 

The smallest protoform nearly blurted 'yes' but thought better against it. 

* * *

**(TBC)**


	2. Owen

_**Chapter II: Owen** _

* * *

_(Present Day):_

* * *

Owen Armstrong awoke to the sound of his mother's fist hammering against his bedroom door, he peered up from underneath his flattened pillow with a slack eyes. Owen's eyes wavered at the sight of the sunlight peeking through the window beside him. His eyes in general felt swollen, and unconsciously he reminded himself to turn his lights off before going to sleep. He rolled out of bed. A mound clothing cushioned his fall. Owen grabbed his mattress and hoisted himself off his back. "

"Owen, get up! You'll be late for school!"

His mother's muffled voice cried. Owen winced at the reminder; Sunday had come and gone, he would have to leave the house today. Never bothering to answer his mother, he ventured towards his bathroom at the slowest pace he would manage. "It's either school or the medication," Michelle Armstrong warned. Owen groaned picking up his pace; the antidepressant medication prescribed to him by his doctor said to help him with his agoraphobia, only made Owen sick. The seventeen year old often asked his mother if she would ever notice if he decided to switch the pills with rat poison. It was his subtle way of letting her know that the medication gave him 'suicidal thoughts'. A rather weak excuse, especially if he hoped she'd take him off the pill.

Michelle Armstrong saw right through his ruse, however, and threatened him with the alternative; Going back to the therapist on a daily basis. Afterward Owen stopped retaliating against his mother's attempts to help him with his so called 'problem', though he give her a hard way to go every now again. He couldn't understand why everyone thought his being cooped up in his bedroom was such a bad thing. Granted, it was not a normal thing, but hardly on the top ten lists of deadly mental illnesses if even that. Owen pushed the thoughts aside for now as he shuffled a little faster into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The desire to drown his worries in a long hot shower overwhelming now.

* * *

Owen came downstairs at a moderately calm pace, the knowledge of being fifteen minutes late for school already processing through his mind. He had taken longer to get ready than he expected, but by the blank expression on his mother's face as he entered the kitchen told him she had expected it. Owen pulled his backpack up a little further onto his shoulder. He ventured into the fridge for the sandwich he had prepared the other night and forgotten to eat, he spotted the white container stacked under several others full of leftover food from various points of the week. "Mom, why is my sandwich on the bottom of the stack?" Owen ventured.

Michelle peered past her son's lanky body and peered at the Rubbermaid container her son was currently pointing at. Her nose wrinkled at the memory of opening the accursed thing and being bombarded with the most awful smell her nose had ever encountered. It was most likely another strange mixture of condiments, she thought. "Its stale, it needs to be thrown away," Michelle answered casually. "No its' not, I made this thing last night. One of my  _special_  sandwiches," Owen stated with a smirk. Michelle rolled her eyes at her son as he yanked the container out from under the others, thus causing the others to fall over. "Seriously mom, have some respect for my stuff," Owen grumbled dejectedly.

Michelle shrugged dismissively, raising the mug to her lips she sipped quietly on her coffee, wondering how she ended up with such a weird little boy - now nearly a man. Michelle found herself lowering her gaze as Owen moved methodically through her kitchen, grabbing junk food and at least three apples, a poor counter-balance to the mounds of artificial food he usually ate the entire year. Owen finished packing his messenger bag when his mother stood up and moved away from the table, the teenager stepped back for a moment completely taken by surprise by the woman's sudden movement. Michelle smiled fondly at her son; Owen regarded her cautiously as he felt her hand slip into his. "You know I love you, right?" Michelle inquired softly, smoothing back his wild hair.

Owen plastered a goofy grin on his face and nodded, unsure where this was going. Leaning closer to his mother, he whispered, "Mom, have you been drinking again?" His brow wrinkled even more when Michelle smiled pleasantly at his question instead of scolding him. It was as if she was teasing him with a secret, he felt stupid and flinched when she pattered him on the shoulder.

The next thing Owen knew he was standing at the front door. "Mom -  _mom_ , what are you doin'?" He proclaimed nervously, his face red as a beet. Michelle didn't answer her son, instead she opened the screen door and shoved her son out the door. Owen tripped over his own feet in a desperate attempt to get back inside his house. Michelle slammed the hardwood door in his face and locked it. "Mom, I was leaving!" When no answer came, he kicked the door with as much ferocity as he could possibly could. "This is not how you reinstate your son back into normal society!" He practically bellowed at the door.

"Well, I'm tired of taking it slow! Your seventeen years old for cripes sake, go act like it!" Michelle retorted.

"I could have a panic attack!" Owen punched the door.

"Agoraphobia and panic attacks are two different things. If you do have a panic attack, stick your head between your legs. Now get to school," Michelle snapped. Owen shot the door one last simmering glare before forcing himself to march down the stairs. He paused on the last stair feeling his muscle tense, Owen swallowed against the tightness in his throat as his heart began to race, his breathing hitching. Owen patted himself down frantically in search his keys.

 

Stupid mom, he thought bitterly. Shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, he finished out his keys. Owen bolted forward across the path as fast as his legs would allow. He allowed his eyes to wander the sleek body of his blue '67 Mustang fondly; as he finished his approach the door opened as if to welcome him. He halted for a moment, his keys jingled in his palm. It was a strange occurrence that happened ever since Cindy tried his steal his car. The door had swung out and knocked the teenager onto her stomach. Owen teased her about for weeks to her chagrin.

When it didn't happen again he chalked it up to faulty locks and springs in his door. Giving the door handle a jiggle, Owen slipped inside the car taking comfort in the driver's seat despite his trembling hands. The familiar smell of leather interior both calmed and unnerved him. Owen sat quietly in the car letting the silence wash over him. His left hand gripped the steering wheel then wandered down to its center. The boy's thumb brushed past the strange insignia, it had been there ever since after the accident. It put him on edge in the beginning, but he barely paid much attention to it now. Another custom detail to admire, appreciate. "Here, we go," Owen muttered, turning the key in the ignition. The vehicle roared to life and sputtered when the key was turned too far.

Owen winced easing up on the key, the engine hummed as if in appreciation. Thank God, this is my last semester, Owen thought wearily. Pulling out of the driveway he slammed his foot down on the pedal, the reaction from the car was not one he expected. The car came to a halt throwing Owen against the steering wheel, the boy bit down on his lip praying his mother was not looking out the living room window. Inhaling he kept control of his nerves, pressing down on the gas pedal slowly he smiled when the car lurched forward and proceeded down the street.

* * *

When Owen arrived at school he was already half an hour late, he had missed half of the first period. As he cruised down the empty street, he stifled a groan of dismay. The parking lot was already jammed beyond capacity, so he had to park outside school grounds. Just his luck. He pulled up behind a U-Haul truck, Owen turned the car off pausing to listen to the rumble of the engine fall away. He stepped out of the car and moved quickly across the sidewalk onto school grounds, on the look out for anyone that could land him in the principle's office. Owen pushed the door open and listened to it creak.

It was a strange way of reminding himself that he was miles away from his house. Not caring who would see him at this point, Owen hurried down the hall. The halls, illuminated by the sunlight pouring through the skylight and double door windows, seemed to stretch on forever. Anxiety began to swell up in his chest, biting the inside of his cheek Owen bolted forward, his feet pounded against the ground, pushing him forward and onward. The rattling of the lockers almost brought him to a halt but the adrenaline kept him moving, he flew past the principle's office as the door opened. Owen turned the corner without slowing down, his feet slipped out from under him and Owen hit the floor hard. The boy's chin bounced causing his teeth to clamp down on his tongue. Bone met soft flesh, and Owen opened his mouth quickly as he forced himself up off the ground.

Cradling his throbbing chin, he resumed his jog down the hall towards the door at the very end of the hall. Becoming aware of footsteps behind him, Owen threw a glance over his shoulder. Two boys - probably no older than he - stumbled to a pause quickly glancing in the other direction. Owen swore he heard the kid mutter his hippie-child friend, "Oh, man - its - it's that guy. Uhh..." Owen heard the teen's finger's snapping quickly. "Owen Armstrong?" The hippie-child supplied, tucking his near-white hair behind his ears. "Yes, exactly, Owen Armstrong!" The brunette snapped his fingers again. Owen, like the very like him, was not known for being the most sociable person in his school. He fell somewhere between 'non-existent' and 'weird'. Anyone who knew of his disposition could always set him off in all the right ways. Everyone else simply avoided him.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't wear old spice deodorant and the Dollar Store brand that kept people away, it tended to wear off under extreme heat. That or his wardrobe - ratty pants, oversized T-shirts, and grungy hoodies - that scared them. Not that he worried over how he looked, that was the last thing on his mind. Owen nodded to himself in affirmative. Maybe it was the incident with the meat head Trent. That wasn't actually his most defining moment in school history. Owen self-consciously rubbed his untamed eyebrows.  _Probably_. As he drew nearer to the classroom door, he spotted a trashcan.

Owen spat a wad of saliva and blood into the can as he passed. He entered the classroom in the middle of the teacher's speech about High-Temperature Superconductors. The entire class turned their attention on Owen, their faces a mixture of relief and irritation. Their teacher, Mr. Abrams, seemed to stare right past him. Owen began to wonder why when he was shoved further into the room by the two boys that been behind him earlier. Mr. Abrams smiled humorlessly at the sight of the trio.

"Ah. Owen, Miles, and Sam. So nice of you to join us," He mused dryly. Owen shrugged his shoulders as he moved towards his designated seat. "I overslept," Owen muttered guiltily slumping in the chair. Typical seemed to be what Mr. Abrams was expressing to the teen. He turned to Sam and Miles who immediately began to speak at the same time. "Please! One at a time!" The teacher cried. The two boys clammed up then looked to each other for assistance. Sam decided to speak. "Well, you see, there was - uh, 'problem' in our other class, and Mrs. Municipal wanted to see us," Sam chuckled nervously.

"Take your seats please, gentlemen so that I may continue teaching the class," Mr. Abrams deadpanned. Sam and Miles hurried over to the seats in the middle of the room and were rather disruptive when it came getting themselves together to work. Owen pulled out his notepad and cassette recorder, knowing he was better off copying it from the horses mouth rather than wrack his brain over it later on at home. Assuming the house was without company when he got there. A little over a week ago, Michelle had told him Craig was coming for a visit. Owen paled at the very ideal of being the same house as Craig Armstrong. His estranged father's visits were never quiet nor pleasant.

Michelle always found something to argue about, but Craig kept coming back, hoping to 'set things right' by them. It wasn't because he was a terrible father, just the absent kind. Things were uncomfortably awkward when Craig was around, and truth be told, Owen did not feel the desire to get to know his father as most boys did. That ship had come and gone. Craig was forever to be described as a man more in love with his work than his family. Something that utterly broke his mother's heart. It was a terrible cliché and it was the defining attribute in his family life. The love/hate relationship between his parents disturbed him, Owen had no wish to try and figure it out the mechanics either.

Mr. Abrams spun dramatically back around to face the blackboard and began to write. "Now as I was saying; Superconductivity occurs in a wide variety of materials, including simple elements like tin and aluminum, various metallic alloys and some heavily-doped semiconductors. Superconductivity does not occur in noble metals like gold and silver. Or in most ferromagnetic metals..."

Owen's mind shut down, absorbing only abstract information from the world around him. Unconsciously, he retreated to the safety of his mind. To the ones on the outside his face was neutral, without expression. The only way Owen would be found out was if Mr. Abrams called on him to answer a question and he didn't respond. By that time, Mr. Abrams was too far-gone in his summary of superconductivity to notice that one of his students had fallen asleep.

* * *

(TBC) -  **Authors Note:** There you have the character introduction for Original Character, Owen Armstrong. The third chapter is all backstory, but don't worry it gets more exciting as things move along. Please note that anything surrounding his condition is basically crated by me (inspired a little by Maggie Mui, of  **R.O.D. THE TV** , and her safe zone - a small room full of books), I have never met an actual Agoraphobic. - Sakura123 


	3. Flasbacks

_**(March 6th, 2006):** _

* * *

Owen went unseen by his parents as he moved towards the staircase, he cast an embarrassed look to his mother, who in turn, met the steady gaze of her son and smiled bitterly. "Owen, please excuse us, there's something Craig and I need to talk about. Go upstairs," She said. Like I need your permission, he thought lamely. Owen's brown eyes fell on his father, who sat silently at the dinner table his gaze meeting Michelle's. Owen retreated upstairs to his bedroom and locked his door. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared out his window.

Night had fallen, he listened to the rain beat against his window as the thunderstorm raged with a fury the neighborhood hadn't seen in weeks. He was glad, lately the whether had been far too dry and hot for his tastes. If he listened hard enough he could hear Craig throwing a thousand obscenities at his mother who always retaliated with glass objects hurtling towards Craig's head. Owen crept out the house through his window, praying that lightening didn't strike the tree while he climbed down.

On nights like these, the outside was as much a comfort as sleeping in his car was when his parents fought. Owen landed on the ground in a crouch, standing up, stumbled backward, nearly loosing his footing. Righting himself, he jogged away from the tree. As Owen approached car he paused in mid-step, he cast a look towards his open window and wondered if his parents had sensed his absence yet. Owen eyed the front door for a minute, Craig would be storming out of it any second now.

The last thing he wanted was his father trying to coax him back into the house. Heaving in irritation he resumed his approach toward the Mustang. Hopefully his parents were too wrapped up in their own problems to even hear him pulling out of the driveway. He slid into the drivers seat with a sigh. "Time to hit the road, buddy," Owen said, turning the key in the ignition.

* * *

Moments later, Owen was sitting comfortably inside his car, attempting to see past rain that saw it fit to drench his windshield. Flipping the windshield wipers up to their highest mode, he urged his car onward until he reached the desert highway. The empty space put him at ease, and it was a welcome respite. Owen drove for what seemed liked hours, enjoying the sound of The Doors filtering out of his radio. He shivered at the chill that swept through his being, a sure sign that he was going have to stop soon. The radio station he was listening to crackled in and out through the static interference, the teen grumbled in irritation as he struggled to hear 'Riders on the Storm' through the interface.

He tried adjusting the station but to no avail, static reigned supreme before the radio died. Owen punched his radio in frustration. "No good piece of...shit!" A loud bang rang out overhead, Owen's heart skipped beats as his body fell into the clutches of fear. Another bang echoed mere seconds after the other and this time he felt an aftershock. The Mustang jerked to the left, Owen struggled to keep from driving off the road, he virtually had no control over his vehicle anymore. Turning the steering wheel to the right, the vehicle shuddered and began to swerve out of control. The radio roared to life with a terrible screech, Jim Morrison's vocals became indecipherable wail akin that of fingernails raking against a chalkboard.

His ear drums felt like they exploded, Owen clamped one hand to the right side of his head as the windows shattered. Owen barely caught the sight of two objects crash landing not far from where he was approaching, and then the ground began to tremble. Hs eyes snapped shut to shield themselves from the jagged shards of glass. Lost in the chaos of confusion, Owen barely had second to realize what had happened to his car, by then it was too late. He was thrown violently against the door of his car, his head collided with the steering wheel.

The Mustang tumbled off the road onto desert land, rolling until it was brought it a halt by an unsuspecting boulder. Owen hung upside down in his car, saved by his seatbelt. Every nerve in his body was on fire, Owen hurt in places he'd never thought could sustain injury. "Help… help me…," Owen choked on his words, blood bubbled out between his lips, running down his face into his nose and eyes.

The car shuddered like it was being rocked by an earthquake and Owen was vaguely aware of anything, not even his pitiful gurgling screams. His body tensed and he cried out in pain, the car was rocked violently from side to side, Owen screamed louder. "Irritating fleshling," Owen turned his head just as a towering figure lowered itself to his level. Owen nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of a seemingly mangled face trapped in a steel muzzle. His mouth hung agape allowing the blood to flow freely down his face onto the ceiling of the car. Holy crap...! A long slender claw came toward him. Owen was frozen with fear, the sharp end of 'finger' pressed against his stomach piercing the surface of the skin. The last thing Owen remembered was his head bouncing against the headrest.

* * *

"Is he alive?"

"Yeah, but only just. Primus, human are fragile, I might've broken something getting him out that belt. Grab his car, we've got get him to the proper medical facilities."

"That's easier said than done. What I am gonna do with his car?"

"Leave it somewhere close by. A busy intersection perhaps?"

"No, they'll be questions about how he got out the car."

"They'll be more concerned about his injuries than how he got out the car. Just do it."

* * *

The memory of blistering pain came back like a thousand bee stings, jolting Owen out his sleep. The reality of his situation came rushing back to him when his head collided with the ground, Owen drew in his lips so that they did not touch the floor. The laughter of his classmates had him standing in record time only to sway and fall down again. Owen had smacked his head on the ground a second time. Serves me right, he thought wincing. "Mr. Armstrong, I would've thought you got enough sleep, given your lateness," Mr. Abrams mused. Owen gave his teacher a sort of pitying expression as he sat back down in his chair, after giving his recorder a quick look to check if it was still on; Owen slouched in his chair. "I'm sorry Mr. Abrams, my mom kept me up all night," Owen supplied lamely. More laughter erupted from the class, Owen stared blankly at the veins visible on his hands.

Mr. Abrams scoffed. "With what?" His teacher inquired. Cognitive therapy with Dr. Baroness, what else? Owen simply shrugged slouching further into his seat, he wasn't going to answer that question in front of the whole class. His cheeks were burning hot now. Mr. Abrams pushed the issue no further than he did and only gave Owen a brief mention of staying behind after class to have a word with him. Owen participated in the remainder of the lesson with a hood over his head, listening to both the idle whispers of the classroom and Mr. Abrams.

His mind drifted to the nightmare repeatedly, the red eyes burning holes into his very being. Beforehand, Owen remembered being unable to recall anything, he hardly remembered his waking day in the hospital. Michelle sat by his bed, a sobbing mess. She told him he had been involved in a hit and run accident on the hospital. A car had come driving through the entrance of the building injuring several others in the process. According to the doctors assessment of his injuries, he suffered massive head trauma, had broken several ribs, along with his arm and leg.

The doctors were saying it was a miracle that he was even alive after such a collision, but Owen did not see his fate in such a light. Nightmares and pain beyond the touch of morphine were all that welcomed him the waking world, he couldn't fall back into a coma if he wanted to. His mother rarely visited him, she couldn't bare to see in him in such a helpless state. Owen suffered alone in a crowded hospital. He underwent physical rehabilitation with the help of the hospital's nurse, Alison R. Hart-Burnett (Lady Jaye to Owen).

She took care of the teenager, providing an surrogate mother relationship in the absence of Michelle. Their relationship started simply and progressed into a friendship Owen would value for the rest of his life. The thought of asking her out crossed his mind but Allison confessed to Owen, weeks before his final evaluation, that she was going to marry a man named Kup. Bummer. Within the required timeframe Owen recovered to a point the doctors were comfortable with and he was discharged from the hospital. Feeling as though she owed him, Allison took Owen home. Immediately, his uneasiness in the vehicle was noted. The only thing that welcomed Owen home was a depressed mother, and a fully repaired Shelby Mustang. He could remember the conversation with his mother well...

"Mom, it would've cost a fortune to get that thing repaired. How'd you do it?" Owen was not one for looking a gift in the mouth, but the near-mint condition of his car aroused a great curiosity in him that it distracted him from the crutches under his arm. "What thing?" Michelle looked at her son with confusion then stared out the kitchen window. Owen felt his heart skip when his mother's face mirrored his surprise. "I didn't fix the Mustang, that thing was totaled. It should be at the junkyard now," She said.

"Totaled?" Owen squeaked. The Mustang had been killed. "What do you mean, 'totaled'?"

"Just what I meant, it was beyond repair. I'm not even -" Michelle waved her hand dismissively. "Maybe one of your friends fixed it..." She trailed off, rushing over to the microwave.

"Mom, you know as well as I do, I don't have any friends," Owen retorted. The Mustang had been killed, it was the only thing that repeated in his mind.

"Well you should work on that. It's not healthy for boy your age," Michelle mumbled, sniffling. "Maybe one of the neighbors did it. Just be glad, you didn't have to pay a cent for it." Moving toward her son, she stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Owen welcomed the affection. "I'm glad your home sweetheart." With that, his mother shuffled back upstairs to drown her woes in green tea. His curiosity not yet quelled, he ventured outside to visit the nosy neighbor's daughter, Cindy. To his surprise, Cindy was less help than he imagined. She told him that the Mustang rolled up into the driveway one night, followed by sleek looking royal-fuchsia '94 Pontiac (Firebird) Trans Am.

"I saw a man in the car," She had said. "I assumed it was you, with some hot chick in the other car. It wasn't until after I heard from daddy that you were still in the hospital that I began to suspect something. Its been there for weeks so it wasn't stolen." While the act of bringing his car back from the grave to his house sounded mightily good-Samaritan, something stuck Owen as wrong about the whole thing. He looked his Mustang over; making sure it was the genuine article. Every single detail about his car was there on the mystery vehicle, save for the strange mask-like insignia in the middle of the steering wheel, which also replaced the cobra emblem on the front of the car. Cindy's story of a stranger bringing his 'totaled' car home made him wonder if his mother wasn't pulling his leg. Owen remembered staring out his window at the car for hours that day like it was cursed.

It was beginning of his reluctance to leave his house.

The one place where nothing could hurt him.

* * *

(TBC)

**Authors Note:**  Next chapter, Sam, Mikaela, and the Autobots are introduced.


	4. Mustang and Camaro

This just wasn't his day.

Owen had only barely managed to escape Mr. Abrams class when he dismissed the students. He blended in with the crowd and slipped out the door proceeding to run towards the exit of the school as many other students flooding out from the build were doing. All he had to do now was avoid Mr. Abrams for the rest of the day, it was a solid plan but the odds of falling off the teacher's radar completely were harder when you were over six foot four. Owen navigated his way through the small crowds spread across the schoolyard, to his disappointment most of them had taken the picnic tables.

A gaggle of 'it' girls had made themselves comfortable at the picnic table under the large tree. "That's my spot," Owen mumbled to one in particular, shuffling off to look for another spot. He finally found one near the gate, an old abandoned picnic table covered in graffiti and dry chewing gum, Owen sat dejectedly on the top of the table with a heavy sigh. Swinging his backpack from around his arm and onto his lap, he reached into his bag grabbing the containing holding his Sandwich; He munched on his lunch without much enthusiasm. He scanned his environment until his eyes landed on a car parked in the middle of the street just across from where he sat.

Owen's eyebrows rose considerably at the body of the vehicle, it was an old Pontiac, a 1990's model at best given its sleek futuristic appearance. The body was smooth, flat and rounded - not to mention the ugliest shade of royal-fuchsia he had ever seen. "Oh, shit ..." Owen choked on his sandwich at his absentminded notice of the vehicle's shade of color. Sliding off the picnic table he moved closer to the gate, the car's engine revved at his approach.

The woman driver, who could only be described as sultry in the traditional sense. Adorned in a leather bodysuit and sunglasses akin to  _The Matrix's_  Trinity, the woman turned to meet his curious gaze, she smiled and her face flickered. In that small window of time, Owen swore he saw the exact pair of eyes that had peered down at him before, only they were blue and not red. Owen could feel his lips open and close helplessly at the sight of the stoic woman's expression, terrible memories of a sharp object jabbing him in the stomach. Oh God, Oh God, oh God, oh Go-

"Hey, are you all right?" Someone asked. Owen whipped around in response, an expression of distress etched across his pallid face. Standing on the other side of the picnic table was  _the girl of everyman's dream_ , and Trent's girlfriend, Mikaela Banes. She wore a more modest assortment of clothing than what he was used to seeing her in. A brown oversized hoody, a fitting T-Shirt with the words 'Policy of Truth'written across the chest, loose fitting jeans and sneakers over her boots. Owen got a hold of his emotions immediately; he exhaled heavily with a nod. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," He uttered, turning back around. The Pontiac was gone, no a sign of its presence anywhere. Owen sighed again, releasing his anxieties. He moved over to the picnic table and hoisted himself back onto the top.

Mikaela eyed the teen in front of her, as far as passing strangers go, Mikaela had never seen him around, which usually meant he was new to their school or someone who played hooky quite frequently. Mikaela had been looking for Sam when she spotted Owen at the end of the schoolyard, Her curiosity urged her to inspect his frenetic behavior. Extending her hand she offered the mellow boy a smile. "I'm Mikaela Banes," She told him, her fingers wiggling slightly. Owen looked down at his sandwich, which had fallen from his grasp somewhere between his vaulting off the table and approaching the gate, he then eyed Mikaela's hand. Removing himself from the table a second time Owen took her hand shook it firmly, noting how sweaty his palm felt against hers. "Owen Armstrong. Nice to meet you, I guess," He answered, without enthusiasm.

The pleasant glow on Mikaela's face dimmed, he didn't mean to come off as so uninterested - okay, maybe he did, he just didn't expect her to notice - so he smiled a little more. They let their hands fall away and stood in an awkward silence for a time. "Is that you car?" Mikaela inquired, pointing across the yard. Owen leaned forward and spotted his Mustang sitting across the street, he hadn't parked it there. He blinked in bewilderment.

"Yeah, it is," He paused. "Mikaela, do you know anything about cars?" He inquired.  _Lame, Armstrong, lame._  Mikaela shrugged. "Quite a lot. My dad was a mechanic," She answered smoothly, placing a hand on her hip. Owen found himself standing a little straighter at her response, his throat dried and his face burned. Years of unconscious conditioning had lead him to believe that girls like Mikaela Banes had no wisdom in cars, or anything else, whatsoever. To hear the opposite was a bit of a shock. "Uh, I own a Ford Mustang. 1967...Shelby Cobra," He stammered. Mikaela's smile widened. "I know, my dad owned one," She said, chuckling.

"Cool."

"Yes it was," She answered shortly, folding her arms across her chest. Where was Sam? They planned on eating lunch in yard in order to avoid a confrontation with a bitter Trent. Her eyes shifted to Owen, he was keeping himself occupied by fiddling his backpack strap. Biting the side of her mouth she reached forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

Owen looked up in question, hoisting his backpack up onto his shoulders. "Do you mind if I take a look at your car?" Mikaela's fingers intertwined as her spoke, she raised an eyebrow at his blank expression. "Sure, I don't mind. I've been having problems with it," Owen answered. Mikaela's eyebrows raised in mock-surprise. It wasn't unheard of for someone to buy to an old classic and were unable to keep proper maintenance and repair on it.

"Yeah, for instance, I parked my car in front of the gate and now its over there across the street."  _That's not much of a problem,_ Mikaela thought as she shot the car a look, tempting it to move. The Mustang remained where it was unfortunately. "Are you sure? Maybe you just forgot you parked it there," She supplied. Owen shook his head saying that he would remember if he had parked his car elsewhere, he wasn't a careless person. You don't need to be careless to forget, Mikaela wanted to say. "Well - maybe…"

"Mikaela! Hey! Mikaela!" Sam Witwicky's voice startled the girl out of her thoughts. Mikaela beamed at the sight of her approaching boyfriend, Miles conveniently absent from his side. Sam kidded to a halt nearly tumbling into Mikaela. Owen watched the scene with utter confusion, unsure he should even be present for this display of dormant affection between the two. "I'm so sorry I'm late, - I got stuck in the principle's office again," Sam breathed, leaning into a kiss.

 

Again? Owen thought bewildered. Mikaela smiled against his lips wrapping her arms around his neck, a loud cough broke the kiss. Sam's eyes averted upward and stared wide eyed at the sight of Owen Armstrong. "Oh, um - hey there," Sam stammered, scratching the back of his neck. Owen pointed a finger at Mikaela in question. "Weren't you dating Trent?" He inquired. Mikaela rolled her eyes, she would've figured by now that the public blow-off she gave to Trent would've given someone the ideal that she had broken up with the dunderhead. Apparently, the message was not so well received by the public.

"We broke up. Sam's my boyfriend now," Mikaela supplied in a tight voice. Sam nodded in affirmative, wrapping an arm around her waist in a possessive manner. Owen rolled his eyes. He moved past the couple desperate to escape the awkward situation. Sam watched his retreating back in question before looking to Mikaela for an explanation. "I kinda just found him over here and started talking with him. Said his car was acting weird," Mikaela said.

"His car was acting weird? You sure that wasn't a pick up line?" Sam inquired jokingly. Mikaela unwrapped her arms from his neck and pointed to the car sitting across the street. "His car is the Mustang sitting across the street," She said. "He was a more than a little preoccupied with it, I don't think he was that interested in me." Sam shrugged his shoulders in half-agreement, doubting Owen didn't take the time to awe at the simplistic beauty that was Mikaela Banes.

The kid would have to be blind or a eunuch if he didn't find Mikaela attractive. "Anyhow, I told him I would look at his car. It'll have to be after school, I wanna have lunch," Mikaela stated. "You got the box?" Sam smiled and raised the carry-out box for her to see, Mikaela grinned delighted by the smell of food. Mikaela and Sam rushed across the yard, their eyes set on the vacant table near the gate.

* * *

Hot Rod sat across the street from where Owen originally parked him and watched with great amusement as the teenager stand flabbergasted at the sight of Arcee as she taunted him. She sought the unnerve the boy, a sure way to get back at Hot Rod for impeding on her search for her commander, Bumblebee, for so long. Given that they were still being hunted by the likes of Thundercracker, and Dropkick, months after the incident in Mission City, Hot Rod was careful to keep a low profile. Both of them landed just year ahead of Optimus and the others and after making sure Owen would survive his encounter with Bonecrusher, they began a widespread search for the All Spark knowing Bumblebee was most likely doing the same.

Arcee was reluctant in leaving Nevada, especially if her commander was in the general area. Hot Rod was quick to remind her of their goal. Finding the All Spark before the Decepticons was their top priority, reuniting Bumblebee would have to wait. They went their separate ways, Hot Rod covered most of states in the North and Arcee took the South. When the blackout had struck, the two Autobots were attacked by other Decepticons in hiding - they were careless in masking their spark signatures.

In Canada, Hot Rod was unfortunate enough to attacked by Dropkick, in the guise of a M2 Bradley IFV, and nearly damaged him beyond repair with the seemingly limitless firepower at his disposal. Hot Rod was forced to retreat when the battle became too intense, nearly spilling out beyond the Army's designated area, straight into the civilian cities. Meanwhile, Arcee dealt with Thundercracker, an F-22 Raptor, and Swindle, a Chevrolet Cobalt SS, in South America. They attacked a military base in Brazil to draw of her out of hiding, under the suspicion that she had found the location of the All Spark. Her discovery turned out be a trap set by the mysterious human faction, Sector 7.

Her adversaries were kinder to her as they were all attacked by the South American military the moment they revealed themselves. Arcee dealt Swindle a killing blow via through his damaged chestplate, one blast from a accurately aimed cannon did the Decepticon in. Arcee was quick to retreat the facility before the approaching Sector 7 could apprehend her. Thundercracker did the same. The Autobot duo reunited in Nevada where they went into hiding until contact with Optimus Prime was possible. It wasn't until two weeks ago that Hot Rod picked up the message Optimus was sending to their comrades in space. Arcee was ecstatic and he was relieved, yet disappointed upon learning the fate of the All Spark.

Presently, Hot Rod was simply waiting for the right opportunity to reveal himself to Owen, just imagining the situation was troubling. "Arcee, leave him alone," Hot Rod called warily. Arcee wasn't given the chance to respond, a female came up obviously noticing Owen's strange behavior. "Hey, are you alright?" Her voice came over his frequency loud and clear. Arcee cruised past him just as Owen turned in response. 

"You shouldn't bother him like that," Hot Rod chided. If Arcee could roll her eyes she would've, her engine revved in response. "I wasn't bothering intentionally. Just checking the status of his health," Arcee responded coolly. "He still behaves erratically even after a standard year. Mental rehabilitation doesn't seem to be working." Hot Rod harrumphed keeping his scanners focused on the jumpy teenager. "Humans are fragile apparently. Its takes much longer, mentally, to recover from traumatic occurrences as opposed to ….  _us,_ " Hot Rod mused tentatively.

Arcee nodded in mild agreement, she knew their kind were not immune to what humans called 'Post Traumatic Stress', but given Owen's youth he should've recovered much quicker than most. "Perhaps," Arcee retorted flatly. "Though it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to say your presence unnerves him." Hot Rod was careful to keep his engine at the Autobot's observation, remembering how Owen was hesitant to even ride in his car, after finding out it had been seemingly repaired and brought back from the dead. "No way! Owen doesn't notice anything!" He assured her. Arcee watched Owen interact awkwardly with the slim brunette girl a little while longer before turning her attention back to Hot Rod. "If our friend doesn't notice anything, then why does inspect his car like a man waiting for a trap to spring? He eyes our Insignia constantly, caressing it like he knows…"

"Arcee, I promise you, Owen doesn't know I'm not his car," Hot Rod nearly growled. Arcee huffed in response and fell silent. Rodimus welcomed the silence and let his attention drift back to Owen. Arcee sighed dejectedly as she drove away in reverse and parked somewhere out of sight. Being unable to search for her commander was really starting to get to her, but there was little she could do; they had to be careful about how they went about revealing their presence to the Autobots. The Decepticons were hunting them still and attracting attention to a populated area would do them (or the humans) no good. In addition to the fact that the thickheaded Hot Rod had pointed it out infuriated her.

Rodimus was known among his elder peers as cockier version of his mentor, Kup, in his youth, especially his first couple hundred years. "An absolute terror," Jazz grumbled once recounting an embarrassing collision with the younger Transformer. Arcee, just a year younger than him, was friends with him and another fellow Autobot, Springer (the eldest of the two). Bumblebee, a year younger than Springer and two years older than Rodimus, was always partial to associating with Hot Rod given his tendency to act before thinking and thus, always creating calamity.

Something that never set well with High Lord Protector Megatron - the one person aside from Ultra Magnus that couldn't tolerate him. Hot Rod was barely over two hundred years old when the war broke out between the 'Autobot' loyalists and 'Decepticon' separatists. They spent the rest of their lives engaged in warfare with Megatron and his followers, yet it never seemed to take he edge off his Hot Rod's high-spirits or reckless behavior. If anything, it intensified. One example would be  _The Battle of SimFur_. He had been assigned to his commanding officer, Kup, Capt. Ultra Magnus, and Lt. Hardhead.

The four had been separated from the rest of their team and pinned down by Decepticon fire, in the jagged canyons miles from their base of operations. Hot Rod, burning with desire to prove himself to his superiors, and like the thickheaded 'bot he was, ran out into a barrage of fire from Barricade and Devastator. The damage he took on was minor compared to the explosion he created when he fired straight into a pocket of Energon.

Barricade and Devastator survived, Cybertron had a new addition to its canyon, and Hot Rod earned a month in the med-bay for his troubles. "It was dumbest thing Rodimus had ever done, but it saved our lives," She remembered Magnus telling her when she came to check up on him. Bumblebee believed that Hot Rod's reckless behavior stemmed from a lack of self-worth, the constant need to prove himself to the others that he was not as he always appeared on the surface. Springer chalked it up to a need for attention and Arcee had no opinion other than he was stupid for taking such chances with his Spark.

Optimus was less than pleased with the outcome of their reconnaissance mission, but never got the chance to lecture the young 'bot on his recklessness; He was called away on a mission that required his direction attention. Hot Rod recovered, with only a scar that extended vertically past his left optic as a semblance of what he done and was placed back on active duty. Like many of the Autobots, Hot Rod was sent on yet another mission with his team to hold back the ever-rising forces of Megatron's army. This time they were to enter Decepticon territory in order to infiltrate their base. Rodimus and Hardhead had been sent to ascertain the best route around their security defenses when Megatron ambushed them, along with the likes of Scorponok, Thundercracker, and Dropkick.

"Apparently we were expected…" She remembered Hot Rod saying. Hardhead had them double back to where Kup and the others were waiting. They made halfway there when Megatron cut off their retreat. The Decepticons converged, the two locked in a furious battle - three against two for sometime before Kup and the rest of squadron found them. It was in that moment that the tables turned in favor of Megatron. The rest of his militia emerged from hiding and like clockwork, Kup's squad was nearly demolished. Wheeljack and Depthcharge were the first to be killed, taken out by a burrowing Scorponok, the fourth Decepticon that went unaccounted for.

Arcee remembered Hot Rod telling her that he went after Megatron, against Ultra Magnus' direct orders not to engage in any battle with the ruthless Transformer. Hot Rod held his own against the towering tyrant, though just barely, before he was literally blown across the battlefield by a blast from Megatron's fusion cannon. The attack rendered Hot Rod's systems useless. Left immobilized and unable to defend himself against Megatron's next attack, Hot Rod awaited the end. As another volley from Megatron's cannon fired, Hardhead stepped in the way of the blast. His chestplate was obliterated, his Spark extinguished almost immediately - Hardhead was dead.

Cliffjumper, Depthcharge, and Bluestreak were also among the comrades lost that day. They were the only surviving members of their squadron left. Ultra Magnus, Red Alert, and Kup sustained minor injuries and Hot Rod once again had the privilege of spending two weeks in the Medical Wing, under the care of both Ratchet and Red Alert. "Poor kid was devastated. Hardhead took a shot straight to the chest. Died saving him," Springer recounted. Optimus returned with news that would turn the tide of their seemingly endless battle with the Decepticons. A way to keep the All Spark out of the hands of the Megatron for good.

However, it would be at the cost the planet and it would take every Autobot among them to do it, even if they weren't aware of it. Only a selective few were let in on Optimus' plan; Arcee and Bumblebee were two of the four. Arcee gotten wind of Rodimus' release from Ratchet and Red Alert's care she went to inform him of Optimus' plan, only to find that the young bot had disappeared.

No one knew where he had gone and she had very limited time to search for him. Before long, she and Bumblebee's team, along with others were sent to stop the incursion accumulating at Tyger Pax. Optimus, Ironhide, and Jazz hid the All Spark, their contingency plan ready to be set in motion incase it was discovered. Bumblebee and another defended its position, withstanding torture from Swindle until Megatron's arrival. The All Spark was launched into space, out of Megatron's grasp and Bumblebee paid a high price for it. Upon retrieving their fallen comrade, the thought of Hot Rod turning tail and deserting them only made her angrier. If the hotheaded Autobot had been there, Bumblebee's torture would've been lesser.

Despite this, Arcee searched for Hot Rod in between her free time whenever she was not visiting Bumblebee in the Medical wing. It felt strange to her that no one, especially Optimus, seemed to notice his absence. When Bumblebee recovered from his injuries, he set off after Megatron to retrieve the All Spark. Three months after the battle of Tyger Pax, Megatron and Bumblebee's departures, Arcee found Hot Rod atop the observation tower of their base, brooding. "Where have you been? You deserted us in our darkest hour!" Arcee snapped, making her presence known to Hot Rod. Rodimus did not rebuke with the usual come back, instead he shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I'm sorry, I needed some time to myself."

Arcee was more than tempted to push the issue further, especially given that his disappearance could have be seen as desertion, but the look of utter defeat in his optics stopped her. The fact that he felt responsible for Hardhead's death had yet to occur to her and so she simply left him alone. As time went on, the battles grew more intense and the planet's seemingly slow deterioration appeared to accelerate in turn. Both factions now had to worry about electrical storms and earthquakes so terrible that it brought up the magma that flowed beneath their feet. Hot Rod was promoted to Lieutenant soon after being placed back on active duty.

Thus, his perchance for taking risks was less and less. He lead his squad of Autobots into battles as Kup had taught him. They won battles under his careful planning, yet it did nothing to turn the tide. Whoever the tactical genius was, it wasn't Hot Rod. Without a leader, the Decepticon attacks were sloppy, yet lost none of their potency under the command of Barricade and Starscream. However, Optimus began to realize that their war was becoming a pointless endeavor with their home planet crumbling around them. Communication with Bumblebee was brief and so far, he had no luck in his search. Thus, in a last ditch effort, Optimus and his remaining comrades, along with the Decepticons, ventured from their home to aid in the search for the All Spark.

Arcee traveled with Springer for a time before going her separate way, but as luck would have it, she ended up on a water planet where Rodimus was currently spending his time in prison for insulting the Overlord's - a highly respected Quintesson Judge as it were- tentacles. Arcee helped him escape and two have been traveling together since then. Since their departure from Cybertron, Hot Rod's character seemed to change completely, and she felt like she had taken his role of the hotheaded bot in some strange way due to her impatience with him and their situation.

Hot Rod was certainly more reserved and hesitant in his decisions, she had chalked it up to discretion stemming from exploring a new world, but Hot Rod was never known for restraining himself on un-traveled road. Other changes she had noticed was his perchance to ponder over the stars for hours on end, and when he wasn't brooding, he roamed the city for hours until morning. Arcee, however, never really considered what had happened earlier on Cybertron as an attributing factor to his change in temperament, until now. Arcee pulled herself from her thoughts when Rodimus engine revved.

"What?" She inquired, dazed.

"Were you even listening to me?" Hot Rod asked incredulously.

"No. What did you say?" Arcee answered, knowing denying the truth would lead into an argument.

"I heard Owen say to his mother that he thinks our symbols are custom made details added when his car was repaired," The laughter in Rodimus' voice was unmistakable. Arcee rolled her eyes in irritation. When the Decepticons were out of proper range, Rodimus and Arcee had approached the car with caution. The boy was a terrible sight behold hanging upside down in his vehicle, leaking lubricant from every part of his body.

Arcee was gentle with his body as she cut him loose from the car. Owen was limp in her hand, his left arm hung at an odd angle and she feared she had damaged him. Hot Rod grabbed the vehicle up from the ground and the two began to formulate a plan as they raced across the desert terrain like ghosts. Once inside of the busy city, they slipped through the shadows of buildings and alleyways never stopping once until they reached the hospital. It was there that Arcee's plan came to life.

Hot Rod would pose as the damaged car long enough to get Owen medical attention and then flee before the humans could ascertain him. Arcee scanned a nearby vehicle in the parking lot whilst Hot Rod reluctantly scanned the damaged vehicle, omitting the damage with an overall assessment of the vehicle's frame before the accident. Arcee then proceeded to place all of Owen's undamaged belongings into Hot Rod before placing the boy himself into the back seat. Shutting his door unnecessarily hard, Hot Rod pulled out of their hiding place and went speeding towards the entrance of the hospital.

The Autobot demolished their fragile doors and parked himself at the front desk. It wasn't apart of Arcee's plan but it got their attention well enough. Once the humans recovered from their shock, they piled around Hot Rod and discovered the injured child. Pulling him out of the car, the doctors began to prep Owen for treatment. They were so busy with tending with the boy, now lying on a gurney that they barely paid attention to the fact that the driverless vehicle sped out of the hospital, tires squealing. Arcee followed Rodimus on a different route, to ensure that no one could connect her vehicle mode with the '67 Mustang.

Afterward, Hot Rod sought out a better form to scan. He came across the same vehicle, of the same year and model, but this time it was red. The color change appealed to Rodimus, scanning the model into his interface, he simply camouflaged the frame in its original blue. Owen had yet to notice a difference in his 'car' and Hot Rod was more than willing to keep it that way for now. "So aside from the symbols, he doesn't suspect a thing?" Arcee inquired carefully. "Nope. Not a thing," Hot Rod assured his comrade. Arcee sighed with relief.

* * *

(TBC)


	5. Sam and Mikaela

Owen roamed down the crowded halls of the school, which was beginning to empty by the second. The remainder of his school day was a mixture between mundane and dreary, as he spent most of his time trying to stay awake. He hardly had to worry though; his cassette player should have recorded all the lessons over his snoring and the sniggering of his fellow classmates. Hoisting his backpack higher up on his shoulder for the umpteenth time, Owen stepped aside to allow a girl to go by.

Owen eyed the back of her, certainly unable to keep himself from appreciating the view from behind and the way her figure bounced with every step she took. With a sigh, he continued down the hall, fiddling with the edges of the envelope given to him by the school principal. Apparently, Mrs. Municipal didn't appreciate his "slacker attitude" and "lack of respect" for the authority figures, including herself. Owen begged to differ at that point; He had all the respect in the world for his authority figures, save the police and the meter maids.

For his rebuke, he ended up with the honor of delivering a letter detailing his less than satisfactory performance in school, to his mother. If the letter was not delivered to his mother by 5:00pm that afternoon, Mrs. Municipal would give Michelle a call personally. Owen was sorely tempted to kick his own ass for his error. Whatever was in the letter, his mother was sure to strangle him for fit. Stuffing the envelope into his back pocket, Owen made his way out of the school, he held fast to the railing as several people tried to shove him out of their way. Once he was off the stairs, he jogged across the parking lot exiting the school grounds with heavy sigh of relief. He was so intent on getting to his car that failed to notice the oncoming vehicle.

The yellow car came to a halt mere inches from his legs, Owen jumped back in alarm just as a head popped out from the drivers side. "Hey, watch where you walking buddy-" The words died on Sam Witwicky's lips when the young man looked up from the ground. His mouth opened and closed in shock, he ducked back inside his car with a shake intake of breath. Mikaela looked up from her magazine to Sam in concern. "Sam, you act like you just saw a Decepticon. What's wrong?" She laughed.

Sam scratched his face nervously. "Yeah, well, he might be one," He grumbled gripping the steering wheel. Mikaela glanced out the window in curiosity; standing in front of Bumblebee was none other than Owen Armstrong. Mikaela looked to Sam again, her eyebrow raising. "What has this kid done to deserve that?" She asked incredulously, trying not to laugh again.

Sam actually seemed to pause to think of a plausible answer, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration. Owen Armstrong wasn't unknown to have a short temperament, like Trent the jock. In fact, Owen was docile, but the one-time outburst of physical violence aimed towards the aforementioned jock and his friends had everyone thinking twice about crossing paths with Owen.

Reportedly, Owen was given 50 hours of community service over Jail time, with some help from his mother who knew someone on the inside of the justice system. "Uh, he creamed Trent about a year ago, I think," Sam answered. Mikaela actually seemed to pause at this, she turned towards the windshield and spotted Owen standing in front of his car, fumbling with his keys. The vague memory of finding Trent and his friends in the nurses' office, being tended for injuries struck her.

"Him? Trent told me it was one of his friends," Mikaela said. Sam shrugged, "I'm just telling you what I heard," He answered. Mikaela huffed; Trent was never honest with her. Hoisting herself out the window she waved to him, Owen blinked a couple times in bewilderment before his door swung open and bumped him. Mikaela watched the boy stumble sideways, eye wide with surprise.

"Hey, Owen, do you mind if I take a look at your car now?" She asked, hoping to distract him. Owen turned quickly to look at her, a quizzical expression on his face. He hadn't actually expected Mikaela to make good on her word, just making conversation with him. With a nod of his head Owen watched the girl retreat back inside the car, and stick her head out again. Her expression hesitant, she asked, "Is it alright if Sam helps out? He knows a few things about cars. Don't you, Sam?" The befuddled look on Sam's face said otherwise, but Owen obliged. Watching the two-step out of the car he eyed the Camaro. If he knew his cars, then Witwicky was driving a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro - a car that wasn't supposed to be available until late 2008 at best. So what was he doing with it?

Turning his attention away from the Camaro, he spotted Mikaela running her hand across the surface of the hood; her fingers paused, poised upon the top of his hood ornament. She looked up at him, with curious look on her face. Shifting his gaze to the back, he spotted Sam thumbing the racing strips atop the hood. "Where did you get this?" She inquired. Owen frowned, the quizzical expression returning, closing his door he joined her at the front of the car and stared at the hood-ornament, which bore the exact same insignia branded into his steering wheel and grill where the cobra once was. Owen shrugged with a dismissive wave. "I dunno - my car was fixed up in my absence," He answered. Mikaela raised an eyebrow at his response. "Absence?" Sam repeated, tilting his head.

Owen nodded his head again, this time unable to hide the irritating creeping up on him. "I was in a car accident. I just got out of rehabilitation a year ago and when I came home, my car was waiting in the driveway. My Mum said it was totaled, but whoever fixed it probably tagged my car like this," Owen explained, rubbing his thumb on the rough edges of the symbol when Mikaela removed her hand. Sam walked up to front, eyeing the windshield of the car suspiciously. Immediately he spotted the Autobot insignia on the steering wheel. "Really?" Sam said doubtfully.

"Yup, but I like them. I don't plan of getting them removed," Owen said, just as a loud pop resounded. Owen looked down at the hood of the car, realizing it had just opened. Mikaela's fingers the gripped edges of the hood and hoisted it above her head. Grabbing the stick prop, she placed it under the edge of the hood and leaned forward. Owen peered quizzically at his 5.4-liter, 32-valve V-8; It was the first time he had seen his engine in years,  _which reminded him to check the oil one of these days_. It certainly wasn't the same engine he remembered being housed inside. In fact, it was the wrong kind of engine for this car. Who would put the wrong engine in his car?  _A lousy mechanic,_  Owen thought to himself in embarrassment, covering his face.

Mikaela shot a glance towards Sam when their new acquaintance wasn't looking, Sam nodded in silent agreement. Mikaela reached inside, checking all detachable components in and around the engine. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing explainable anyhow. Standing upright, she looked to Owen with a helpless shrug. "Well, aside from the oil change, there's nothing wrong your car internally. As for your door, I'd suggest getting it looked at, if it continues to open without cause," Mikaela explained. Owen's eyebrow half-raised in understanding, he hadn't expected her to find the cause of his car's problem. Maybe he did park it across the street after all.

"Well, thanks for your input," Owen extended his hand for equal measure, wiggling his fingers as she had earlier. Smiling, Mikaela took his hand and gave it a firm shake. "Your welcome. Oh, wait, I don't think you've properly met my friend Sam, yet," Mikaela pulled the tall teen away from his door spinning him around to meet Sam. Sam eyed his girlfriend in question, his mouth going dry at the irritated expression Armstrong flashed Mikaela. "Sam this is Owen Armstrong, Owen this is Sam Witwicky," She said. The two stared at each other in question, wondering what the girl's angle was in the proper introduction to each other.

Mikaela raised her thumbs in support before retreating to the awaiting Camaro. "Mik- Mikaela, what are you - what you doing?" Sam stammered in protest, reaching out to grab Mikaela. She ducked his grabbing fingers with a laugh and jumped into the car through the driver's side. He turned to Owen with a nervous chuckle, his nerves falling him by the minute. Owen extended his hand out to the shorter boy first, putting on friendliest smile he could muster. "Hi, I'm Owen," He laughed. "Sam Witwicky, nice to meet you," Sam replied, shaking his hand.

"Same here," Owen added, his arm dropping to his side. The two stood there enshrouded in silence, unsure of what to say to each other beyond what Mikaela requested. Sam eyed the '67 Mustang curiously, wondering if he should tell Owen his car was a possible Autobot when the sound of the Camaro's radio coming to life beat him to the punch.

_We were just wasting time_

_Let the hours roll by_

_Doing nothing for the fun_

_A little taste of the good life_

_Whether right or wrong_

_Makes us want to stay, stay, stay for awhile_

Bumblebee's way telling his charge that he had a curfew to make good on. Running his hand across his face, he chuckled. "Well, um, I'll see you later, Owen," He said lamely. Owen made no promise to do the same, with a nod of the head he moved toward his open car door. Sam rushed over to his car as soon as Owen's car roared to life. The Mustang's roar drowned out Bumblebee's start-up without much trouble. Sam gave the hood of his car a slap as he climbed into the car, Bumblebee rolled back to allow the vehicle space to pull away from the curb. Mikaela and Sam watched as the Mustang came to a stop inches away from the grill of the Camaro and charged up the street at top speed, tire tracks left in its wake.

No more than a few minutes after the exit of the Cobra a sleek royal fuchsia Pontiac rolled out of its parking space and sped down the road after the other car. The Camaro started and headed down the stretch of road for a moment before making a turn. Sam eyed the dashboard of his car expectantly. The dials on the radio turned and Bumblebee spoke. "It would seem that Optimus' message has worked. We have comrades among us," The Autobot mused. Mikaela stared ahead of them watching the world fly by in a blur of colors and houses. "So, Owen's Mustang was an Autobot?" Sam inquired.

Bumblebee turned another corner coming to a halt a red light, on their right a police cruiser ran through the light, sirens screaming. "Affirmative. As was the car that followed it," Bumblebee answered tentatively. Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise; It had barely been two months now and already more Transformers were arriving on earth; he prayed that no Decepticons arrived as well. "Did you recognize him?" He inquired. Bumblebee gave off low frequency hum as an answer. "Not the first one no, but the second was most likely Arcee," Bumblebee answered. The light turned green, Bumblebee continued onward toward the Banes residence, Sam removed his hands from the steering wheel to rest his throbbing muscles.

"Arcee?" Mikaela repeated, confused. "Yes, a transformer of unique design, the second and last of her kind, given how late she came into our world," Bumblebee explained. Sam's eyebrows raised again, he was impressed. "Why didn't they reveal themselves to us? I mean, not like you did us, but - you know, through the radio communication or something?" Mikaela asked. "I'm not sure. But if she is following the Autobot under Owen's ownership, then we're sure to see her again," Bumblebee replied stoically.

* * *

(TBC)


	6. Closing In...

When Owen left the company of Sam and Mikaela, he decided that he wasn't going straight home. His father was bound to be there by now, and if his mother was telling the truth about his arrival, they were sure to be fighting - or doing other things with each other. The very ideal make him cringe. Though he was careful to avoid the more congested streets of the city, Owen found himself stuck in several jams before finding his way to open road unpolluted by traffic.

The silence that engulfed the car was comforting for once; his mind was quiet with the exception of intrigue that lingered after meeting Sam and Mikaela. They were a strange couple of characters, especially Mikaela. Owen blushed at the thought of her; Witwicky's girlfriend put him on the spot with the introduction ploy, Owen felt rather stupid afterwards. Chewing the bottom of his lip, he pulled off the road onto the dirt road, which lead up to the Tranquility lookout.

The car came to a halt at a couple feet away from the edge of the cliff; stepping out the car, he shut the door as he moved towards the front of the car. The orange sun glistened of the chrome finish of the vehicle's hood, stepping on the bumper he hoisted himself off the ground and sat on upon the hood. Owen stared out at the populated world below overshadowed by the intense light of the sun. His fingers messaged his throbbing wrist for the hundredth time that day. This was first time he had driven anywhere, besides school and home, since the accident.

Against his mother's better judgment, Michelle had driven everywhere since his return from the hospital at his request, even to school. He had been afraid to even touch a steering wheel, but found himself on his own when his mother grew tired of feeding his fears. Owen was a rattled mess; His mother dragged him out of the house when questions about her son's whereabouts became an irritating task to answer constantly. When his nightmares were at their worst, she would spend the night outside his door incase they got too intense. (Owen was a cranky person when he didn't get enough sleep.)

Thus her next step was take him to see the therapist, Dr. Baroness, who prescribed his antidepressant insisting that he come see her everyday after school. The antidepressants worked like a charm - he just hated the drowsiness and nausea that came with the unnatural calm. Owen stopped taking them a week after his first session with Dr. Baroness, so when Trent [and co. decided to 'teach him some manners' for knocking his lunch tray into lap, Owen decided to relieve his pent up fear and frustration on the jock and friends whenever they interfered in his pummeling of Trent.

By the grace of a gaggle of students, Trent escaped with a broken nose … his friend's minor injuries as well. Owen's punishment was far worse; 50 hours of community service for nine months, in the profession of his therapists choosing. His mother had a fit. Naturally, Dr. Baroness picked the grimmest punishment - a retirement home.

Owen wanted to curse the heavens for his misfortune, wondering if Jail was still option open to him. In the nine months he spent there, he made no friends other than Mr. Greyer, a WWII veteran, when the old man wasn't playing pranks on him. He kept his distance from most people unless called upon, which was frequently to his dismay. When his time was up, Owen emerged from his punishment an educated young man and an overblown reputation at school, steeped in fear and hostility.

At Dr. Baroness' request, he wrote a six-page apology to the school for his ungentlemanly behavior and his social problems only got worse from there. Everyday he found some rather unpleasant items in his locker, but he made no complaint against. Instead, he purchased a mini camera with the help of Mr. Greyer, filmed everyone who ever to break into his locker, and sent an unmarked tape to the principal's office.

The break-in's to his locker stopped soon after the principal made the announcement of her discovery. How one can become an utterly feared and repulsed figure in the eyes of the student body, he never interacted with puzzled Owen. Half of them barely knew Trent beyond his reputation as the star-football player and yet he ended up playing the victim, Owen was the unwilling villain of this Lifetime TV drama for teens.

Yet, in spite of all of this, the incident brought a sense of confidence to Owen. Leaving his bedroom wasn't as hard as it used to be, though he preferred staying inside, he was steadily improving. Scratching the back of his neck, he laid back on the hood and closed his eyes allowing the cool breeze to wash over him. I should really be getting home; Mom is going to be worried -crap, the letter! Owen yelped pulling himself upright, pulling up his sleeve he stared at his wristwatch.

5:10pm! The feeling of paper crinkling in his back pocket returned, further reminding him of the grave he had just dug for himself. "Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Owen muttered leaping inside the car through the open window. He head bumped the steering wheel as his fingers turned the key in the ignition. The car roared down the hill in reverse, dirt flying in every direction.

Turning the car around Owen sped back down the road. When he returned to the main streets, the traffic was better, yet driving at the speed he was - over the 38mph speed limit - no less dangerous. It certainly made him think twice about being late. Mrs. Municipal probably phoned his mother by now, he could imagine Michelle's red-beet face waiting for him at the front door as he pulled into the driveway. "Oh God, I'm so dead," He murmured. As the lane of houses came into view Owen spotted his father's blue Chevrolet pick-up truck immediately, apparently Michelle was distracted - for now. Owen eased up on the gas as he pulled up into the driveway, the car rumbled for another second before falling into silence.

Owen caught a glimpse of his mother stomping past kitchen window, his father in hot pursuit. Stepping out of the car, he shut the door and proceeded across the lawn in a stealthy manner, keeping low to the ground and out of the window's sight. Back at the driveway, Rodimus watched his human charge with amusement as he rolled across the lawn like a samurai. Scanning the house, he located the parents, currently engaged in verbal match of some sort.

Strange, Hot Rod thought turning his attention back to Owen. When Owen got the tree, he grabbed a hold of the branch and hoisted himself up toward his window. The climb up through the thick branches and leaves was arduous one. Finally, he achieved his goal, Owen grabbed his window ledge pulling himself inside the bedroom, and unfortunately, he landed on his drawing desk - a desk that was supposed to against the wall next to his bedroom door.

The table tipped over with a resounding crash, crushing Owen under its weight, his portable lamp and art utensils scattered across the floor all around him. The 17 year old laid there in utter defeat, knowing it would only be seconds before his parents came thundering up the stairs into his room, most likely armed with weapons to assault the interloper in their offspring's bedroom. Now he was officially a dead man.

As expected Michelle and Craig burst through the door wielding aluminum bats, their eyes searched around the room frantically until they spotted their son crawling out from under his fallen table. " _Owen?_ " Michelle exclaimed in alarm. Owen raised a trembling hand in the way of response, messaging his backside he moved toward his bed like an elderly man and fell against the edge. He eyed Craig for a moment before waving again. "Hey, Craig - I mean, hey Dad," He mumbled.

Suddenly the confusion was gone from his mother's face. Dropping the bat to the floor, she strode over to the panting teen and glowered at him, her face growing redder by the second. "So, I got a call from your Principal. . . Mrs. Municipal I believe her name was?" Michelle drawled lowly. All hopes of averting the disaster were now thwarted, with a trembling hand Owen reached into his back pocket and handed her the crumbled envelope.

Michelle took it without missing a beat; her expression was a mix between disappointment and haughtiness. Owen pulled himself onto his bed, proceeding to take refuge under his pillow. "She told me that you haven't been applying yourself to your studies nor paying the slightest respect to your authority figures at that school. Is she lying?" Michelle dared to venture.

Peeking out from under his pillow, which was subsequently snatched from his head the next instant, Owen answered, "Mom, we all know your gonna punish me, so just get it over with," He half-snarled. Michelle felt the letter crumbling beneath her fist as she attempt again to get through to her son. "Owen, I wouldn't punish you without good reason to. Now tell me the truth! Have you haven't you been applying yourself at school?" His mother bellowed angrily.

At this, the boy leapt from his bed, his fists clenched at his side. Michelle took a step back. "Yes! Yes, I've been applying myself at school! You've seen my grades mom, I haven't failed a test since - well you know since!" Owen sputtered, running his hands through his tangled hair. Michelle watched her high-strung son pace about the room for another minute, eyeing the unopened envelope crumbled in her hand.

Owen lowered himself to the ground grabbing the edge of his table hoisting it back up to its standing position. "The only catch to that is - that I've been sleeping in classes and recording the lessons on my cassette player," Owen added finally, biting the edge of his lip. Words of congratulations were on the tip of Michelle's tongue, however, her son's final words settled in before they could properly leave her mouth. "You've been sleeping in class? For how long?" Craig spoke up for his speechless wife. Owen averted his attention to his father with a sheepish shrug. "Pretty much, yeah. And about six weeks," He answered hesitantly.

Craig watched his son's agitated movement, the boy behaved as if prepared for the words 'punishment' to come flying out of his parent's mouths.  _He should,_  Craig thought grimly. Owen wanted to tell Craig to take his would-be authority and shove it in the darkest part of his little closet. Instead, he nodded to himself and added, "Doesn't recording lessons and acing them despite my tendency to doze off in class, count for anything? Would you find comfort in the fact that I'm possibly suffering from a side affect caused by not taking my antidepressants anymore?" The boy watched his mother's head snap up, her composure recovered from the grips of her frustration.

Owen hastily included that Dr. Baroness had told him there was no longer a need for the antidepressants as he was making great progress in his recovery. "She just failed to tell me that not taking the pill might 'cause withdrawal symptoms, such as insomnia and body aches," Owen finished, hoping to appeal to his mother's sense of pity.

Michelle let out of an exasperated sigh; he had failed to mention that part. Unclenching her hand she unfolded the crumbled envelope and pulled out the damaged note concealed within. Craig began to approach his wife's side when she sent him a reproachful look. "This is none of your business," She snapped. "Seeing that I'm his father, I think it is my business, "Craig frowned at the woman before him and moved forward until he was next to her, attempting to read the letter whenever she changed position.

Growing exasperated with their childish antics, Owen reached over and knocked over his table lamp. The lamp clattered to the ground, the light died in a blinding burst of light. The two jumped back in surprise, unsure of what happened. Michelle gave the boy a disapproving glare. "Can you tell me what my punishment is?" He inquired flatly. "No car privileges for a month, " Michelle answered, snatching the paper away from Craig.

Owen searched his pants pockets for a brief moment; pulling his hand out of his left pocket, he tossed Michelle his keys. His mother caught them effortlessly, taking the paper out of Craig's reach once more. "Thank you. Now can you leave my room now? I need some 'me' time, " Owen gave his mother a nod of mock approval before lying down on the bed. "Keep it up, and you'll loose TV privileges too," Michelle called over her shoulder as she and her husband exited the bedroom. Owen glared daggers at her retreating back. Rolling onto his side so that his back was facing the bedroom door, he stared vacantly at the round gold plated discs resting peacefully on the dresser across from his bed.

* * *

Night had fallen on the city of Nevada, though the city had yet to fall under the spell of slumber, one found he could not sleep that night. Bumblebee sat on the edge of the lookout, his elbow propped on his thigh, his chin rested in the palm of his hand as he studied the stars dubiously. The suspected Autobot had not tired to contact him in anyway, not even through a coded signal, which would have concealed easily from its human charge.

It puzzled Bumblebee to an extent, but recognizing Arcee's coded signal as she followed the unknown Autobot put his mind at ease. How long had she been here on Earth now? Did she come before him, Optimus and the others? If so, why did she not attempt to contact them until now? "Something troubling you, Bumblebee?" Optimus' sage voice startled the young Autobot out of his pensive state of mind.

Turning 'round half way, Bumblebee spotted the Autobot leader standing some distance away from him. The ledge apparently, had become a favorite the Autobots whenever they needed to think deep and hard on something, save Ironhide, who preferred traversing the unexplored areas of Nevada when he wanted to ponder. In the background, Bumblebee spotted Ratchet by himself, checking his diagnostic system.

Positioning both hands beside him, Bumblebee hoisted himself away from the edge of the lookout and stood upward. "Nothing more than usual, Optimus," Bumblebee grunted approaching his friend. Optimus harrumphed with a shake of his head; his blue optics scanned the scout's face curiously. "I've discovered Arcee and another Autobot have arrived on earth," Bumblebee announced.

Optimus' optics brightened considerably. "Arcee?" He repeated, astonished. "When did she arrive?" Bumblebee shook his head. "I'm not sure, I had no chance to commune with her given our current situation. She was following the lead of another Autobot who did not disclose his identity. His human charge was a boy named Owen Armstrong. I have searched the person's database; there are three Owen Armstrong's in Las Vegas, but only two residing in Nevada. One of them live here in Tranquility. He 'owns' the Autobot in question, so it narrows things down greatly." Optimus nodded his head absorbing the information given to him.

It brought great to joy to his spark to hear Arcee had arrived on earth, yet his joy was overshadowed by the identity of Autobot she followed. His presence could mean many things, Prime certainly hoped he wasn't a Decepticon in disguise. "Even so, we'll have to approach the situation with caution," Ratchet pointed out, entering the conversation. "Did you get his license plate?" Bumblebee did not miss the humor laced his friend's vocal processor.

Tapping against the side of his head, Bumblebee's optics illuminated and the hologram of a license plate appeared. Ratchet joined the two and stared curiously upon the flickering image. "The vehicle's license plate number is KAZ2Y50 - oddly enough," Bumblebee answered. "The boy's house is only six miles from Sam's neighborhood." The yellow Autobot looked to their leader expectantly.

Optimus was silent, the whirring of his optics filled the otherwise empty silence, when the rumble of GMC TopKick vibrated through the air. They all turned in acknowledgement to their comrade. Ironhide transformed in motion, his cannons twisted accordingly on his arms before falling into standby after his body realigned itself to its humanoid mode. "What's up?" He inquired casually. "Ah, Ironhide, so nice of you to join us," Optimus mused dryly. Ironhide decided to ignore Prime's witticism, folding his arms across his chest he raised an 'eyebrow' upon spotting the hologram. "What kept you?" Bumblebee asked. "Lennox and his family decided to have a night on the town, I won't say anything more than that," Ironhide grumbled dejectedly.

"Humph, its not nice to leave your listeners in suspense, Ironhide," Ratchet said jokingly. Ironhide grumbled irritably stomping off towards the edge of the lookout. "If we're done with the pleasantries, then let's get down to business," Optimus stated firmly. "Bumblebee, I want you to find this Autobot and make contact with him. Arcee as well, if possible." Bumblebee nodded in affirmative, he began to walk down the hill when something flickered off in the distance, barely visible for a second. His optics focused on the sky, but there was nothing there. The yellow Autobot paused turning to face his leader once more. "What is it, Bumblebee?" Optimus said.

"Nothing sir, just thought I … saw something," Bumblebee replied. Optimus blinked, confusion clearly written across his face. With a shake of his head Bumblebee broke into a run down the hill transforming into his vehicle mode. The sleek Camaro sped down the dirt road at breakneck speed, nearly swerving off the road in the process. Optimus watched the yellow vehicle vanish into the night, the gnawing feeling in his spark he had been feeling all day growing by the minute.

"Ugh, I've got that sinking feeling," Prime muttered to himself. "That what?" Ironhide replied, almost immediately, his cannons twirling. Optimus waved his old friend off with a sigh and looked to the stars for answers. Something was about to happen, he could feel it.

* * *

"Unit643, do you copy? Unit643-"

"This is Unit643. What do you need?"

"Yeah, there's a report of a disturbance on Farce Ave. A couple of drunk drivers disrupting the commute back home. I know your shift is over, but -"

"Sure, I'll take care of it. Unit643 out," The radio connection between the police station and the patrol car was disconnected, Barricade's hologram stared lifelessly ahead only turning its head whenever someone stared at him for too long. Driving through a red light dodging oncoming traffic, Barricade checked his navigation systems again to ensure the desired target had not changed location. The blue blip on the screen remained in the residential area of Tranquility.  _And so it should,_  Barricade mused. While the Decepticon was no slacker, he rather enjoyed the prospect of hunting new quarry, it made his job so much simpler when they prey remained associated in one place. So far his prey had done just that.

Two hours ago he had picked up a frequency, carrying an encoded message exclusively used by Autobots, steaming through various radio and police stations. However, given that they were four Autobots currently on earth (and two unaccounted for), this wasn't an unexpected thing. The thing that bothered Barricade the most though, was the memory of being unable to pick up any kind of Autobot frequency or encoded message at all on Cybertron.

Jetfire -once on the side of the Decepticons before he was betrayed by Starscream - made sure all messages were encoded with the cybertronian equivalent of a firewall and enough viruses to crash their communications systems for two human months. Jetfire's signature was all over the Autobot frequencies he had been monitoring for a months now. This particular encoded message, however, carried no signature of Jetfire's at all. This frequency was coming from the two Autobots who had yet to join Prime and the others. Novices, Barricade thought with a sour delight.

"This is Thunderblast. Barricade, what's your status?"

"En Route," Barricade stated sharply. "Are you and Thundercracker position?"

"Of Course. I await your orders," Thunderblast replied neutrally.

"What of Dropkick? Is he stationed where I requested as well?" Barricade inquired.

"Yes," Thundercracker's surly voice crackled through Barricade's communicator. The Deception's engine revved in satisfaction. With his goal set in mind, the Saleen made a sharp turn and ventured up towards the road that would lead him to the neighborhood district. Thunderblast and Thundercracker separated and went their respected ways; Thunderblast with Barricade, Thundercracker awaiting at the rendezvous point with Dropkick.

* * *

(TBC)


	7. Unwanted Surprises

Night had fallen when Bumblebee finally arrived in the desired neighborhood, most homeowners were leaving the house for the night, others settled in for bed. Bumblebee roamed the silent streets of the neighborhood unhindered, scanning all visible vehicle's license plate numbers and energy signatures, all of which came up negative for spark signatures, their license plates a non-match to the number registered to the Mustang. The Autobot sighed in dismay as he turned the corner heading down another stretch of road, Arcee's signature couldn't be sensed in any of the vehicles, which meant she wasn't in the mysterious Autobot's company. Perhaps he assumed too much in thinking she was following him, Bumblebee mused.

The yellow vehicle's search continued until he spotted the familiar gleam of flickering headlights up ahead in the driveway of the middle house. Cautiously Bumblebee approached the vehicle, his headlights mimicking the car's. Immediately, Bumblebee spotted the characteristics of Owen Armstrong's Mustang shifting color like a chameleon. The midnight blue color melted away and was replaced by a dark red color, its stripes remained a pristine white. The Mustang rolled out of the driveway pausing on the street, its profile still facing Bumblebee. How to go about this… He thought warily. The transformer moved again, his bumper was facing Bumblebee's now.

Bumblebee spied the Autobot insignia on the grill and sighed with relief, the transformer in question revved its engine in obvious amusement as its chuckle was unable to hide behind the roar of the engine. "Hey, commander Bumblebee, long time no see!" The youthful exuberance that emitted from the vocal capacitor made Bumblebee pause instantly, his spark dreading the sudden discovery of the Autobot's identity. "Hot Rod-!" The Mustang's tires squeezed with fury, startling Bumblebee further, the car swerved around so quick it nearly titled over on its side. Hot Rod took off down the road, leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. It took a moment for Bumblebee to shake the numbness that attacked his senses, as the abrupt exit of his comrade was a rather unexpected move.

Bumblebee charged down the road, swerving around the corner as Rodimus made his turn as well. Hot Rod continued on his path out of the neighborhood as a sonic boom resonated above the clouds. From above, Thunderblast emerged from the clouds, the Decepticon's vernier engines at full throttle. Bumblebee groaned in despair when he heard the familiar twerp of police sirens behind them. The Decepticons had found them! But how? Hot Rod sped through a red light, running several cars off the road and into each other, Bumblebee veered off onto another road, Barricade following suit. Hot Rod was far too distracted to see that his partner's commander was no longer behind him, instead he focused on loosing Thunderblast. The bridge, however, wasn't for miles and Thunderblast could attack him at anytime. "Arcee!"

Static crackled through his communicator for the longest stretch of time before a very irritated groan broke through the disturbance. "…want, Hot Rod?" From the sound of her voice she had been sleep. As Hot Rod attempted to response to Arcee, Thunderblast fired two Phoenix AIM-54A missiles at the fleeing Autobot. Hot Rod managed to dodge the first one with insulting ease, the missile detonated, obliterating the fronts of small stores and vehicles parked along the sidewalk. With the second one, he was not so fortunate; The missile hit the left side of his rear, Hot Rod swerved sideways into the parked cars adjacent to him.

Hot Rod realigned himself back on the path charging. "Slag! Arcee, I need help! I've got Decepticons right on me!" That got the sure-shot's attention. "I've got your signal. Arcee rolling out," The transmission ended and Hot Rod was left to his own to shake the Decepticon on his tail. Rodimus flew through the streets at an unimaginable speed weaving in and out of traffic. The bridge was a hundred meters ahead and closing in fast, taking another turn he followed the road down to the train crossing. Thunderblast kept on him, without the obstruction of tall buildings the skies were hers to command without hindrance. She disengaged her missiles switching to the Gatling gun.

Taking aim she fired upon the right side of the vehicle, Hot Rod moved left out of the way of the gunfire as he crossed the train tracks making another turn as he did so. Thunderblast flew past the bridge. Easing off her thrusters, Thunderblast waited until she caught sight of him. Hot Rod raced down into the waterway, assessing the damage his body sustained, he was at 80 percent performance and his transformation sequence was bound to be a painful one should the occasion arrive. The roar of jet fire let him know that Thunderblast was still behind him, the Mustang growled arming his own weapons, he'd only get one chance at this.

The armor on the back of the car separated, his beam cannon arose from its stasis mode. Thunderblast caught sight of the hot orange glow of Rodimus' weapon just before the concentrated beam of energy hit her underbelly. Thunderblast was sent into a tumble, plummeting too fast to regain control she began to transform and braced herself for the crash to come. Her knees were the first thing to hit the ground, her body twisted sideways as she skid across the ground, Thunderblast came to an abrupt halt when she collided with a oncoming bus.

The chaotic melody of screams cut short by the consuming fires did not concern Thunderblast in the least, raising herself off the ground she completed her transformation and fired down into the river. Hot Rod shivered inwardly at the screams that vibrated through the air before they were silenced. Police sirens brought his attention to the world behind him, Barricade blazed toward him, smoke curling around his frame as though he appeared out of thin air.

Hot Rod continued down the river pathway, his determination renewed. There was no way the Decepticon would catch him, not after all the trouble he went to avoid him and his fellow comrades. The Autobot drove through a deep puddle, water sprayed in all directions when he veered off the straight up onto the slanted wall. He weight combined with the slickness of his tires made it a struggle to keep himself balanced and centered, the rear of the vehicle wheels were constantly turning to the right, causing him to slide down the wall each time.

Barricade tailgated Hot Rod's every movie with insulting ease, never falling out of sync with the enemy's desperate maneuvers. Picking up speed, Barricade rammed the back of Rodimus as hard as he could. The Decepticon watched the Transformer's wheels lock and drag across the concrete surface. Rodimus cursed when he found himself falling rapidly off the slanted wall, regaining control of himself he put as much distance between himself and Barricade as he possibly could. This was getting him nowhere, where was Arcee? More importantly, what had happened to Bumblebee? Had the commander been killed? No! Bumblebee had to be fine, wherever he was.

Above him, Thunderblast fired a barrage of missiles down on her enemy, and inadvertently, Barricade. Barricade hardly had time to dodge the aforementioned warheads, they crashed and exploded all around him, the Decepticon made a mental note to deal with his 'comrade' later when they had dealt with the Autobot scum. Hot Rod's body rattled with the vibrations of the exploding missiles, he managed to duck them without incident. The ground behind him were riddled with more than pot holes.

Rodimus had to lead them to a more secluded area of the city otherwise the humans would suffer needlessly in their battle. Hot Rod just hoped that Arcee could pinpoint his location and aid him soon. If the commander was gone, she was his last hope. Hot Rod raced towards the end of the river, Barricade came up beside him with the intent to ram him. Hot Rod felt the harsh nudge against his side, but ignored it. Only got one chance at this! He raced up the slanted wall once more, launching himself over and out of the concrete river onto the street. Barricade continued to pursue the Autobot. Thunderblast ventured ahead to the rendezvous point. Barricade would bring the Autobot brat to them.

(TBC)


	8. Thundercracker Attacks

Owen awoke that morning feeling like he just escaped a dog fight, his entire body ached like the time he walked home from the city library on his crutches. Twisting himself out of the awkward angle he managed to get himself into, Owen groaned with relief. He climbed out of the bed surveying his surroundings with bleary eyes. His numb ankles protested against the weight they now had to carry, Owen wigged his toes to get the feeling back in them.

The sunlight illuminated his room so much it hurt, he didn't remember leaving the curtains open when he went to sleep. Stretching his arms Owen's eyes ventured toward the clock. "Only 7:40am. Lucky me," He mused lowering his arms. He slept through the rest of the evening into the next day, he felt better than he had in weeks. If his mother attempted to wake him, she obviously failed in that endeavor. Craig must've kept her busy, Owen thought with a grimace.

The 17-year-old ventured into the bathroom where he proceeded to get ready for the day ahead. When he was done he threw on some jeans and a moderately clear T-Shirt he retrieved from the floor, it was worn and old with more than a few holes in various areas, but it wasn't like anyone was going to notice. Shuffling out into the hallway Owen ignored the fits of giggles and laughter coming from his mother's bedroom, he hurried down the stairs, paying heed to his stomach's growling. Owen searched through the cabinets for a quick meal, a pack of peanut butter crackers were the closest thing available to him so he snatched them up.

He pulled a prepared lunch from out of the fridge and stuffed it into his backpack. Now Owen was set for school. After casting a wayward glance toward the stairs, Owen made his way toward the front door, hoisting his backpack over one shoulder he paused as the events from yesterday came rushing back to him. Michelle had taken his keys after subsequently punishing him for napping in school. He would have to walk to school, which left him with too much time to brood over everything he allowed to bother him. Opening the door, Owen cast a regretful glance towards his Mustang, only to find the vehicle missing from the driveway.

Owen's mouth went dry, his backpack strap slid off his shoulder and the bag fell to the ground with a dull thump. Owen's world was an all encompassing void of nothingness. Throwing his head back, Owen screamed his mother's name, shattering the serenity of the morning. Michelle came rushing out of the house, concerned etched across her face. Her lips parted to ask what had come over her son when she noticed the empty spot on the driveway. "What have you done with my car?" Owen proclaimed angrily. Michelle's hands clenched into fists, the boy's disrespect was becoming a frequent thing now. "I haven't done anything to your car Owen. I've been upstairs since last night with your father," Michelle answered.

"Doing what?" Owen inquired hotly, his mouth quirking. Michelle didn't miss the humor in his voice and reframed from knocking on his ass right then and there. "That's none of your business, Owen. I won't take this disrespect from you any more, I mean it!" Her tone was much harsher than usual, the boy cringed the burning fury in her eyes. "Your car's obviously been stolen, or didn't you notice that?" Michelle quipped. Owen felt the blade in his heart twisting, his face contorted with pure anguish.  _My Mustang has been stolen! The Mustang has been stolen!_  It was all the seemed to register in his mind. Leaning over, Owen grabbed up his backpack and marched down the sidewalk. If he was lucky, he would catch the bus before it left. "Owen! Owen, where are you going?" Michelle called after him. "To school, where else?" Owen replied tersely, never turning to look at her.

Michelle, however, was still at a loss. "What about your car?" She shouted. Owen shrugged trying to come off as indifferent to his mother, his teeth were aching with pain as he grinded them together in frustration. He could call the cops but the chance of their finding his car unharmed and not sitting somewhere on a bunch of cinderblocks were a slim chance to none. "I'll call the cops later!" He shouted, breaking into a run.

* * *

_**(Witwicky Residence):**_

* * *

Sam chewed on his granola bar in frustration. Bumblebee had left sometime in the night and had yet to return from his scheduled 'meeting' with the other Autobots like he promised his human charge. While Bumblebee usually had a good reason for his lateness, Sam doubted this time had anything to do with the Autobots. "Probably on another joy ride," Sam muttered sourly. He continued to stare out of the kitchen window, admiring the well manicured lawn, never taking notice of the large oil stain that resided in the center of the lawn until his father came barging through the back door, looking quite unhappy. Sam paused in mid-chew, his eyebrows raised in question.

"Sam, what did I tell you about lending your car to just anybody?" Ron inquired. Sam stared blankly at his father before snapping out of his out of his self-induced stupor. "What? No, Dad, its fine, Miles is borrowing it," The lie came out of the boy's mouth without the slightest hesitation, however, Ron did not look convinced. "I called Miles, and he said that you said he could never touch the steering of your car 'as long there was breath in your body'," Ron quoted. Sam bit down on the last of his granola bar with a wince, that lie died quicker than the first one had. Unwittingly, he had used Mikaela as an excuse for his missing car just moments before she pulled up to his house, riding her new scooter.

When asked what happened to the Camaro, Mikaela told Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky that a friend of hers was borrowing it for the day and it would be returned as soon as she got a hold of her. "I called Mikaela as well, she doesn't know where it is either. Now I say again, who did you give the car too?" Ron said. Sam wracked his brain for a reasonably believable excuse to his father, that wouldn't have Ron calling his friends. His father was incredibly pissy when it came to how he handled his car, just because he happened to be paying for the insurance. His eyes wandered outside, immediately he caught sight of a young man chasing down a school bus, destined to leave him behind.

Sam took one good look at his face and recognized him immediately. "Uhh, it gave it too - this friend of mine, his name is Owen. Owen Armstrong … and he wanted to borrow my car because his was in the shop being repaired so I let him use it. I didn't see the harm in it, he's a good guy," Sam rambled, grabbing his backpack. Ron watched with narrowed eyes as his son inched towards the back door, he had no intention of stopping him. Sam would have to come home later and then he'd deal with him and his nasty loaning habit. "Gotta go, I'm gonna be late for school!" Sam exclaimed, shutting the door behind him. "Not across the lawn! Sam!" Mr. Witwicky cried in anguish. Sam chose to ignore his father, he rushed across the lawn and onto the sidewalk after the bus.

* * *

When Owen arrived at school, his legs were numb with pain from endless running after the bus. It never stopped once for him and the run-ins with traffic were more than enough to halt his pursuit of the lumbering vehicle. Pulling his backpack strap up further on his shoulder he marched through the school yard, paying no heed to the crowd of teenagers around him. They gave him disapproving looks whenever he shoved someone out of his way, he didn't care, his mood didn't permit it. Rushing up the stairs he entered the school and found it harder to bully his way through the overcrowded hallway. Whenever he pushed they pushed back with equal force, if not harder, Owen nearly lost his balance several times.

Owen resumed a normal walking pace, careful not to push anyone out of his way until absolutely necessary, his shoulder was hurting after a brush with one of the jocks. A tap on his shoulder caused him to turn. He blinked, surprised to find Sam standing front of him. "Hey, Owen, your borrowing my car, alright?" The comment came out of nowhere, Owen nodded absentmindedly before coming to his senses.

"I'm not borrowing your car. What are you talking about?" He stated firmly, entering the classroom. Sam explained the situation to the taller man as he situated himself at his desk. "So, I didn't see you car, did you walk here?" Sam inquired. Owen nodded, easing his bag off his shoulders. "I got in trouble with my folks - or my mother at least. She took driving privileges from me. And this morning I wake up to find my car is missing -"

"Wait, your car is missing?" Sam cut him off. Owen nodded his head unable hide the displeasure on his face at the reminder of his 'stolen' car. "I think my Mom hid it or something, though she says she's been in the house since last night," Owen grumbled sitting down. Sam maintained a semi-alarmed expression on his face. To hear that Owen's car was missing brought a strange sense of satisfaction to Sam's troubled mind. Maybe Bumblebee went to meet Armstrong's AWOL robot in disguise, but that was wishful thinking on his part.

"Maybe your car went for a walk," Sam replied seriously. Owen glanced at the young man over his shoulder, a smile spread across his face the same time a fit of laughter escaped him. Owen turned his head, laughing into the palm of his hand. There was nothing funny about his far missing, yet he found himself reacting to Witwicky's comment as if it was. Swallowing some escaped saliva he regained his composure. "Shut up, Sam," He responded in a unconvincing flat tone. Sam would've frowned if he didn't hear the lingering laugh in the teen's voice.

The classroom soon became occupied with its respected students, their teacher, Mrs. Kramer, was the last person to enter the room. "Good morning class, I've graded last week's assignment, accordingly. I was very pleased to see so many of you actually paid attention to the lesson. This week, your reports -" Mrs. Kramer's voice faded from Owen's mind, he turned his attention towards the open window. The cloudless blue sky distracted him, as their teacher went on for the next fifteen minutes about their next assignment. The Evolution of the British Empire. The entire class, or at least the dedicated students, were completely engrossed in the lecture, which brought a level of satisfaction Mrs. Kramer. That is, until she spotted Owen staring out of the window.

"Owen, I am boring you with my lecture?" She inquired. Without really realizing it, Owen nodded to the woman's question. Laughter erupted all around him, snapping out of his daydream state. His eyes shifted toward Mrs. Kramer whose face was enough to make a man die of shame. The shade of disappointment on her face reminded him of his mother before he had the accident. With a sigh Mrs. Kramer pointed a well manicured fingernail towards door, Owen felt his stomach twist in knots. "But, Mrs. Kramer I didn't mean -"

"Owen, please leave my classroom. I'll not have my time wasted on empty-headed youths, unwilling to learn," Kramer replied, in a clipped tone. Owen gave her a look as if to inquire what she meant then glanced at one of the football jocks behind him then back to Kramer. Her finger was still pointed toward the door, unwavering in its decision. Owen grabbed his backpack up off the ground and marched out of the classroom, the door swung shut behind him with a bang satisfying enough to make the teen feel a smidge better.

He had about another 15 minutes before his other class started, thus he proceeded to wander about the halls while the hall monitor was out to lunch. The journey through the hall was a slow one, he chose which paths to venture without straying too far from the one that would take him to English. He enjoyed the silence with the exception of the squeak of his sneakers against the tile. The aroma of cafeteria food wafted up from the 1st floor, sweet and sour sauce was the first smell he recognized amongst the mixture of foods, he bit his tongue in disgust. "9 minutes left before the next class," He muttered to himself.

Owen continued onward down the hall, a tune in his head. A tremor vibrated through the building, Owen paid no attention to it at first, thinking it was nothing. The second tremor was more prominent, bringing his attention to the window. Owen's backpack fell from his shoulder at the sight of the monstrous creature stomping across the school parking lot, crushing the unlucky car underfoot. The large military insignia planted on its chest, and the span of its shoulders reminded him of a Jet. The subtle movement of the metallic creature's eyes sent shivers down Owen's spine. Its head turned in his general direction and it was all the incentive Owen needed, he took off down the hall, heading for the stairs.  _Maybe it didn't see me-_  his hopes were dashed when a hand came crashing through the spot he had been standing in.

The clawed hand destroyed what remained of the wall, its glowing red eye illuminated the dim hallway and focused on the fleeing boy. Owen rounded the corner, his feet fell from under him causing him to slide across the ground. The wall behind him was blown out, sending derbies crashing down on and around him. A chunk of concrete hit the teen on the head, Owen slumped over in a semi-conscious state. He could hear screaming all around him but his thoughts were too scattered to make anything of them.

Metal scraping against metal aroused the boy from near unconsciousness a moment too late, Owen screamed when he was pulled out the building into the building sunlight. His blurred vision wasn't so bad that he couldn't see the ground several feet below him, Owen nearly swallowed his tongue. The inhuman screech assaulted his eardrums, his ears throbbed with unimaginable pain. He screamed in pain, his vocal chords reaching a new high in decibels.

"Be quiet!" The menacing voice caused Owen's throat to close up, silencing his screams immediately. Thundercracker glowered at the human boy with his red eyes, his grip tightening only slightly. Owen trembled under its illuminated gaze, his memories taking him back to the car accident. Crap. The entire situation was unreal, yet there was no denying everything he was feeling was happening. Thundercracker snarled, this time in cybertronian. Owen's mouth opened and closed in response.

"What? I don't understand?" Owen squeaked pathetically. Thundercracker shook the human angrily, Owen winced as his body was jerked around violently, his neck tensed in fear of whiplash. "Where is the Autobot, Rodimus, hiding? Tell me now!" He roared. Owen didn't get a chance to answer, a burst of hot light engulfed his vision, blinding him, his hands covered his throbbing eyes.

Thundercracker howled in pain as the fire spread across his forearm, his hand unclenched freeing Owen from her grasp. Owen's screaming went unnoticed as he plummeted to the ground, his heart leapt into his throat as the ground rushed up to greet him. He closed his eyes in the reluctant acknowledgement of his demise when something snatched him out of the air. The boy's head collided with his savior's body, he struggled to stay conscious as his world began to spin out of focus.

Standing just a few feet away from Thundercracker was Hot Rod, blue optics glowing with rage. Thundercracker growled, the Autobot leapt under him, snatching the human from the jaws of death. Thundercracker charged the Autobot. Hot Rod's readied himself, with little time to react to Thundercracker's offense, Owen would be killed in his attempt to project him. Rising to his feet, he placed the boy against the fence beside his feet and braced himself.

Thundercracker barreled straight into Hot Rod knocking the Autobot off balance, he slipped his arms underneath Hot Rod's and locked them together in a grapple. Hot Rod grunted as he was hoisted far enough off the ground to destroy his balance completely. Thundercracker snarled, charging forward. Hot Rod felt panic twist flare up inside his spark when Thundercracker's thrusters fired up, adding onto the speed of the Decepticon's charge.

The Autobot fought to regain control of the situation, he dug his feet hard into the ground but he couldn't stop their acceleration. Thundercracker twirled and threw Hot Rod across the yard. Rodimus sailed through the air, his leg smashed against the side of the building tearing a piece of it away. Hot Rod rolled across the ground and crashed into the building across the street. Thundercracker's hand transformed into a plasma cannon, bringing his arm back he aimed for Hot Rod's chest and fired. Rodimus pushed himself half-way off the ground when Thundercracker's blast hit him, he howled in pain as he was thrown back onto the ground.

Rodimus fired two rounds of missiles off hoping it would hit his desired target. They did; Thundercracker cried as his left optic was put out by the heat of the blast. He leapt across the school yard, landing several inches from away Owen's hiding place. His metallic claws touched the scorched part of his face, tracing the inner edges of the blistering scar. Hot Rod pulled himself off the ground, trying his damndest to ignore numbness in his right arm joint.

His attention was diverted from Thundercracker momentarily when a beige tank rolled into the school yard. Coming to a halt beside Thundercracker, the tank transformed. Dropkick towered over his fellow-Decepticon, his arms and shoulder weapons were primed and ready for attack. The hatred coming off both transformers made Hot Rod wish he were still on Cybertron. Leaning forward, he armed his shoulder and arm cannons in response. "Do your worst Decepticons!" He challenged.

* * *

(TBC)

**Authors Note:**  Eight chapters and no reviews besides one (greatful or the response, by the way). Where's the love, guys? Reviews are Love, people. I would love to hear from ya. - Sakura123


	9. Under Attack I

Sam was barely been awake when the first explosion hit the building. In fact he dismissed it as nothing but a passing street cleaner. One moment he was twiddling his fingers, waiting for the end of their history lesson, the next he was falling out his chair when an explosion shook the entire classroom. Fear consumed the classroom, Mrs. Kramer opened the door and filed the panicked teenagers out of the room before exiting herself. Outside the room was a virtual chaos in motion; The swarm of bodies flooded Sam's vision, he couldn't see the floor or walls. Sam barely could keep his footing, the crowd of panicked teenagers shoved him mercilessly down the hall, ignorant of his presence.

The shrill alarm rang out overhead, adding further confusion to the situation. Sam moved sideways against the crowd, fighting to reach the wall furthest away from the stampede of bodies. His fingers brushed the side of the wall flexing inward hoping to grab the edge, only to be pulled away from it and further down with the crowd. He hoped Mikaela wasn't stuck in this type of situation. The mob continued down the hall, like a wave the mass of bodies fleeing through the halls thinned whenever they found the stairs to the lower levels, and thickened whenever they came across more people fleeing from another direction.

Sam felt like a sardine, his head swerved about looking for an escape route. Just above the doorway the crowd was about to pass were the cold red letters of the exit sign. Forcing his way through the crowd, regrettably elbowing a few people on the way, Sam pushed against the doors and stumbled out into the world, the intensity of the sun blinding him momentarily. The doors swung open a second time, Sam dashed blindly across the yard to avoid being trampled on.

"Sam!" The scream brought Sam to a halt, he looked around for he origin of the voice when he spotted Mikaela. Her hair fanned out behind her, Sam lost her for a brief moment in the crowd that spread out across the yard towards the gates. She reappeared again and grabbed hold of his arms for dear life. Mikaela leaned against him, her hot breath brushing against his sweaty skin, Sam attempted to regain control over his legs - they felt like jelly now that Mikaela was safe in his arms. "Sa- Sam… I, there are -" Mikaela's strangled speech came to an abrupt halt when fire bellowed out from around the corner from where they stood. Sam and Mikaela leaped away from the fire as it came at them, rolling across the ground they crawled behind the open door.

"What the hell was that?" Sam cried, though the general idea of explosion's cause had already entered his mind. As if to answer, a massive body crashed against the side of the school wall, engulfed in black smoke and sparking body parts. "Oh, my God," Mikaela whispered. "Another robot." Sam nodded breathlessly in agreement. The Transformer stumbled to his feet with a pained growl, its body crackled with electricity while its colors flickered from blue to red. The familiar pop of cannon fire brought Rodimus out of the haze of unconsciousness, raising his arm he activated his shield and prepared for the worst when he spotted something in the corner of his eye. In that minuscule window of time his blue optics met the fearful gazes of Sam and Mikaela.

Lowering his arm he ducked out of the path of the missile and made a dive for the two humans. Instinctively, Sam and Mikaela ducked into the building, the Transformer rolled and landed in a crouch, both hands armed with cannons. His gaze locked onto Mikaela and Sam. "Find, Owen!" Hot Rod's speech wavered between Cybertronian and Human English, the only word that the teens recognized was "Owen". Hot Rod did not stay to confirm that they understood him, he turned just as Dropkick's claws grabbed him. The Decepticon tank tossed the Autobot across the yard over the gate, he landed with a crash. Primus, that hurt, Rodimus thought, scrambling to his feet.

* * *

As the battle between Decepticon and Autobot raged on, Mikaela and Sam rushed across the school yard, fighting against stiffness in their joints whenever an explosive went off behind them. Mikaela's hand clutched tightly in his, Sam raced across the parking lot, his legs throbbing. "Where are we supposed find Owen?" Mikaela cried over the gunfire, her voice wavering. Sam couldn't answer her at the present moment, his eyes darted around the vacant parking lot - his vision blurred at the immense speed his eyes moved around in his head. The transformers were gaining ground on them, they would have to find a place to hide if they got any closer.

Sam moved past the opening of the gate, preparing to flee the school when he spotted a body sprawled out on the ground, moving. He skid to a halt, grunting when Mikaela bumped into him. Sam pulled Mikaela along with him as he approached the fallen Owen Armstrong, the boy's eyes were open, but the sluggish movement of his body suggested he was barely conscious.

"Owen, Owen get up!" He whispered hastily, giving the boy a kick. Owen sprang up, scrambling up onto his feet. The reaction appeared to be a delayed one, the next instant he moaned, falling against the gate. Sam and Mikaela were at his respective sides, keeping him upright. Upon closer inspection, a red and purple bruise peeked out behind his bangs. "You alright, man?" Sam inquired, wincing.

"My head hurts," Owen slurred, eyes rolling round. Sam could feel Owen's weight increasing against his body, he was loosing consciousness fast.

"Sam, we should really get out of here -" Mikaela's sentence died on her tongue with a sharp gasp and intake of hot air as it danced around their bodies. Thundercracker landed just inches away from them, Sam felt his blood run cold at the sight of the black figure, cackling. The two began to back away from the Decepticon, dragging Owen along with him. They shook the boy roughly, urging him out of unconsciousness.

"I have you now, fleshling," Thundercracker snarled.

"Oh, shit," Sam breathed, wide-eyed.

* * *

(TBC)

**Authors Note:**  Aside from personal prferance, and not wanting to write one name all the time,  **"Rodimus"**  is the Autobot in question's actual name.  **"Hot Rod"**  is a nickname given to him by his fellow peers (namely the ones who don't like his Reckless Behavior. I.E., his commander Kup). Sorry for the incredibly short chapter, I'll update as soon as possible. Just remember to REVIEW.


	10. Under Attack II

Bumblebee woke to the sound of rapid cannon fire overhead. His blue optics whirred in and out of focus. As his sensory respecters came back online, Bumblebee slowly realized he was lying on the ground. Barricade… where was Barricade? The commander had lead the Decepticon away from Hot Rod, leaving the Lt. deal with Thunderblast. Bumblebee lead Barricade out of the populated city, into a more secluded area - ironically, another warehouse district.

The two engaged in battle; At first, Barricade had the advantage, but as the battle dragged on, Bumblebee gained the upper hand on his adversary with only mild complications. He even did Barricade the kind favor of ridding of his cumbersome mace. As Bumblebee prepared to take the Decepticon out with a well aimed cannon blast, he was blindsided by an attack from an unknown assailant.

Clutching the side of his head, he shook it clear of the cobwebs, Bumblebee spotted a hand lying on the ground just across from his. Bumblebee regarded his limbs with worry, the hand wasn't his. Sighing, he rose slowly from the ground, the cannon fire was getting closer now. Bumblebee surveyed the area for the location of the combatants. Suddenly, the distinctive scream of a buzz-saw cutting through metal brought his attention to the world in front of him. A pink blob rolled past him, flames leaping off its body as it landed in a crouch.

Bumblebee's optic widened at the sight of his second-in-command, beaten and dented, but alive. Arcee's optics shifted away from her enemy, locking onto Bumblebee's form. "Command- arrgh!" Arcee was sent crashing to the ground, her chest smoking and red from the blast. Bumblebee threw himself in front of the fallen Autobot, unwilling to any further harm come to her. Thunderblast, instead of Thundercracker, stood before him, armed and sneering at the sight of him. Behind him, Arcee pushed herself up on her elbows, groaning. "I had hoped that you were dead, irritant!" Thunderblast snarled in cybertronian to Bumblebee.

Bumblebee wasted no time on responding, to her goad. He charged the Decepticons, guns blazing. Thunderblast dodged the first rounds of fire, she was not so fortunate with the last barrage. Bumblebee's blast's hit her in the weakened area of her stomach's armor and her spear arm, missing its point (which was undoubtedly the hand Bumblebee saw). Thunderblast stumbled backward. Bumblebee, taking advantage of her venerable state, grabbed a hold of arm and tossed her over his shoulder. Arcee joined her commander's side as she yellow robot pressed his foot against Thunderblast's neck and pulled violently up on her right arm.

There was a burst of electricity before the light in Thunderblast's whirring optics died. Arcee looked to Bumblebee, puzzlement etched across her face. "Is she dead?" Arcee inquired. Bumblebee shook his head, dropping the Decepticon's arm. "No, merely in status lock. She'll be like that for a while. Where's Barricade?" Bumblebee said. Arcee shrugged, her hands falling automatically on her hips afterward. "He wasn't here when I found you. Are you alright?" Arcee asked. Bumble bee groaned, his fingers rubbing his left wrist. "As well as can be expected. C'mon, we've got to find Rodimus," Bumblebee replied, breaking into a run. Arcee nodded curtly before following after the commander.

* * *

"Oh, shit," Sam whispered, the words hissing by his teeth. The last time he was this close to Decepticons, he had been slapped into a windshield, nearly crushed by toppling cars and caught in a dangerous crossfire between Autobots and Decepticon. It wasn't an experience he wished to relive again. Thundercracker approached them with every step they took away from him. Mikaela continued to try and arouse their unconscious friend to no avail. Whatever Owen had conked his head on, it did its job well, he was out like a light. Thundercracker's claws traced the scar on his face, teeth grinding. "Give me the human, and I perhaps I may spare your lives," Sam's stomach twisted in knots at the way the Decepticon's teeth grinded against each other. He could just imagine a human being grinded into fine meet between the beast's metallic teeth.

Mikaela searched for an escape route, her eyes surveying the area for an opening of any kind, but the proximity of the Decepticon made any thought of escape impossible. "I will not repeat myself, scum. Give me what I want or I will tear your limbs -!" Thundercracker's attention was distracted by a shrill whistle overhead. Sam and Mikaela shared the briefest of glances before tightening their hold on Owen's arms and waist (on Sam's part) and making a break for the parking lot's exit. "Move your feet, Owen!" Sam hissed into the boy's ear.

Owen jerked in their grasp as if torn from a dream. His head raised up and his eyes opened. Sam gave silent praises to God on high when he felt Owen's feet knocking against his own in his own feeble attempt to keep in sync with his and Mikaela's feet. Behind them a booming cry of pain echoed off the building. Sam and Mikaela dared to turn around to view the chaos unfolding behind them.

The Decepticon that confronted them was now lying on his back, sparks flying from his chest. Sticking out its chest was a still-rotating buzz saw. Unbeknownst to his rescuers, Owen watched the hulking mass of steel and malice dying, his eyes wide with fear. Thundercracker's dimming red eyes locked gazes with Owen, he bore his teeth at the boy as he opened the undamaged compartment on his arm. In that moment, Owen's nerves dissolved. He couldn't hear himself screaming, couldn't feel his struggle against Sam or Mikaela's failing hold on his arms as he tried to escape them.

He was lost in the memory of his accident; The gleam of metal in the rain when the lightening flashed, the murderous red eyes leaning in to inspect him - or worse. Owen was unsure where he found the strength, but, the next thing he knew, he was running out of the parking lot into the street, screaming. "OWEN!" Sam cried, chasing after the manic boy. Mikaela followed after her companion, her purse slapping against her side. They sprinted quickly across the sidewalk into the street in the direction Owen had gone. As they approached the corner, Sam caught sight of Owen vanishing around the corner up ahead of them.

"C'mon," Sam breathed grabbing a hold of Mikaela's hand. With no obstacles in their way, catching up to Owen was mildly simpler to catch up to than it would've been had there been a crowd of people. "Owen! Owen, stop!" Sam shouted as loud as he could. Owen kept on running, his fear driving him mindlessly ahead. Sam and Mikaela were loosing pace with him, he was getting further and further away the more ground they lost. "Is - is he ever going to stop?" Mikaela panted. Sam could only shake his head. He took a gulp of air that rushed harshly down his dry throat. As the two approached the end of the block, the deep, grumbling roar of a car approaching from behind had them picking up their pace again.

They had barely gotten to the curb of the sidewalk when the car rolled up to them from the side. They stumbled backward allowing the vehicle enough space to come to a halt. Mikaela recognized the car was Owen's despite the change of color, candy apple red instead of Midnight Blue. The Autobot symbol on the steering wheel was unmistakable. The passenger door swung open, revealing an empty inside. "Get in," He commanded. Sam and Mikaela relented to the Autobot's command and climbed inside the Mustang. They were thrown back against the chairs as Hot Rod took off down the street.

They adjusted themselves in the seats just as the belts came over their chests and locked in place. "Where's Owen? Did you find him?" Rodimus asked. The teens shared another look before nodding in the affirmative. "Well, then, where is he? Why isn't he with you?" Hot Rod proclaimed incredulously. "Well, he, kinda ran away when he saw the Decepticon you were fighting!" Sam retorted nervously, gripping the arm of the chair. An irritated groan escaped Hot Rod; Leave it to human younglings to loose track of each other. "Slag it all, where'd you see him go?" He asked.

Sam paused for a moment. "You mean which direction?" He inquired dumbly.

"Yes! Which direction!" Rodimus bellowed. Sam jumped in his seat with a squeak. Mikaela leaned over and grabbed the stick, intending to give it a good yank, but the Mustang made a tight turn, throwing her against the car door. "I wouldn't try anything, I could throw you out and leave for Dropkick. Now where did Owen go?" Rodimus snarled.

Mikaela chose to ignore his threat and pointed down the street they were currently on. " He was going around the corner you just turned a few seconds ago. Keep going, he can't have gone far," Mikaela responded, hoping her answer was correct. They hadn't seen Owen go anywhere, but hoped Mikaela's guess was right. There was no response from Hot Rod other than the revving of his engine. As the Mustang picked up seed, Sam shot Mikaela a wary look to which the girl could only shrug innocently at.

* * *

Elsewhere, Owen continued to run down the sidewalk unaffected by the chaos that terrorized his school. No one - no thing - was following him, he had to get home, he would be safe at home. Assuming I can get there, Owen thought grimly. Through his blurred vision, he could barely see the sidewalk, let alone the crowd of people that surrounded him. His breaths were quick and shallow, making hiccup fit he was experiencing wasn't helping either.

The closer he got to the curb, the more bunched together people became, making it harder to move forward. Several people brushed by him, hitting him hard on the shoulder nearly knocking him over. "Move, move!  Get out of my way!" Owen forced himself shout. Those around him gave him disapproving glances, while others just ignored him. His arms began to tire, his legs were bound to give out if he couldn't get his breathing together. Owen tried to get his mind to focus on Dr. Baroness face; the way her mouth moved whenever he couldn't calm himself down during one of their sessions.

But nothing would come to him, only the outline of her black glasses. Swallowing against the knot in his throat, Owen broke through the crowd and finally reached the end of the sidewalk. The throbbing pain in his head and adrenaline pumping through his system were making things worse. Leaning against the pole, he prepared to breathe a sigh of relief when the building two blocks behind him exploded. Owen ducked against the pole and whipped around in time to see the unfortunate souls standing around the buildings crash to the ground or vanish in the billow of smoke and dust as it came rushing toward him.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of screams, breaking away from each other and going in different directions, fleeing to safety. Owen grabbed a hold of the pole, bracing himself as the stampede came at him. He felt like a dummy being tossed about in a crash test, there was no mercy him as the civilians tried to escape the danger. Over the bobbing heads and faces of the people, Owen's eyes focused on the towering figure stomping out of the dust, red eyes fixed exactly on him. Owen's mouth ran dry when Dropkick was revealed from behind the silhouette of dust and smoke. Dropkick focused his locking system on the boy clinging to the pole for dear life and armed his shoulder rockets. Tears ran down Owen's dirt covered face as he watched the smoke curl out of the barrel and around the rocket.

"I'm so dead…"

* * *

(TBC)


	11. Under Attack III

Reacting on pure instinct, Owen propelled himself forward into the crowd. His body supplying the adrenaline to aid in making a path of escape, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the calamity about to occur. He ignored the cries of confusions and pain, the hands that fought against him and wished to pull him down on the ground with them. Just as a girl screamed "Oh my God!" Owen's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he watched the missile launch itself toward him and the fleeing civilians.

The explosion rocked the ground beneath him and sent him flying through the air like a discarded doll. Owen felt like an airplane stuck in a tailspin, he tumbled across the ground. His sense of direction and reality were lost until he came to a abrupt stop against a overturned vehicle. Through the haze of his blurred vision and tears, Owen watched the silhouettes of smoke and fire swirl around and above him. He was vaguely aware of the approaching footfalls that rattled the ground.

Slowly he stretched his arm out from beside him. Pressing his palm against the ground he felt the tremor vibrate through his entire arm and knew he wasn't imagining things - the monster was still after him. Get up! Get up, get up, get up, get up! The very words became a mantra in his head, but his body reacted sluggishly and rose as though there was nothing to be concerned about. Owen cried out as searing pain spread across his left shoulder, tears leaked from his eyes. Pressing a hand down on the ground he raised body so he was sitting on his knees.

A enraged, almost excited growl sounded behind him. Owen's head snapped to the right. The machine was on the move, gaining speed. "Oh… N- fuck," Owen snarled, grabbing his stomach as he pushed himself off the ground. Despite the pain in his body (that was literally making him tremble), Owen found the strength to run, the distinct sound Dropkick's laughter pushing him onward.

* * *

Sam and Mikaela never failed to be awed by the speed of fleeing civilians whenever danger was afoot. They watched as Hot Rod barreled his way through the crowd, literally causing the mob to part like the red sea with the roar of his engine and the squeal of his tires against the asphalt. Mikaela let out a involuntary scream when one man rolled across the hood of the Mustang before sliding onto the ground in a heap. "Primus, its getting harder to maneuver around them…," Rodimus grumbled.

And it was true; The crowd paid less and less attention to the vehicle the further into the sea of bodies they got. Rodimus prayed Primus would forgive him if he ever ran over one of them. His passengers cringed as the civilians were bumped out of the way when they crashed into the front of the vehicle. Rodimus tried to ignore them for the most part, concentrating only on trying not to kill them with his bumper.

He swerved in and out of the crowd, watching with mild fascination as they leaped over parked cars or each other to avoid him. Sam held onto the arms of the driver's seat chair, having already been snapped at for grabbing the steering wheel once. Dust from the demolished building was steadily becoming stronger and thicker, he could smell the acrid copper taste in the dust that somehow made its' way into the car. Rodimus continued onward into the smoke, his depth perception now completely fogged over.

The road suddenly became uneven, Hot Rod's tire's bounced against the inner frame of the car, they were going over the rubble of the building. Sam listened to the Autobot's engine rev in a manner that reminded him of Bumblebee in a sour mood, he could only assume the same thing with Hot Rod when he came to an abrupt halt. "Oh… slag, I'm stuck on something," The Autobot revved his engine again to no avail, he simply would not budge. "Alright, get out. I'm gonna transform," He murmured, loosing his reserve.

Both teenagers shot a look at the radio, they were sorely tempted to argue - especially when they were both aware of the dangers of inhaling smoke from building debris - but the dangers of being crushed like sardines inside a transforming robot, was even worse. "O-okay," Sam muttered pulling his shirt up over his mouth. Mikaela mimicked his maneuver and the two crawled out of the car on her side. They moved quickly across the rubble, their legs bumped into various jagged pieces sticking awkwardly out of the piles of concrete, hoping there was enough space between them and the Autobot as the familiar whirring of the machine transforming from it Alt. mode echoed behind them.

They continued to jog across the debris, sliding down the steep hills until they broke through the smoke, coughing and gagging. Sam's eyes blinked rapidly as his hand whipped the moisture from them, he was so focused on clearing his burning vision that he hadn't realized that the soft material beneath his feet until Mikaela screamed.

Sam's eyes shifted downward at the what she was staring at. Someone's hand underneath his foot, he leapt away in shock. Smeared across the streets like a child painting were the bodies of the unfortunate souls caught in the rampage of the Decepticon after Owen. Some of them you couldn't even tell who's limbs belonged to. Without warning, Mikaela vomited all that she had eaten across the bloody sidewalk. Sam swallowed his own sympathy vomit, and with Mikaela in hand rushed in the opposite direction of the carnage.

Hot Rod emerged from the cloud of smoke, refocusing his optics on the world before him. For the briefest of moments he felt his spark ache for the lost souls around them, then he moved onward his tracking system searching for Dropkick's signature. The city was in total chaos, seven blocks ahead he could hear sirens wailing, the confused chatter and screams of the humans as they surveyed either the smoke rising above the buildings or the carnage so far from them. Bolting from his spot, Rodimus headed down the semi-crowded street, stepping over vehicles whenever he could unless they were directly in his path. His vision zoomed, he spotted Sam and Mikaela just a block ahead of him. They were fine, thank primus. He surveyed the area further, his spark crackling with panic. Where in the seven systems of Cybertron was Owen?

* * *

**(TBC)**

* * *

**Author's note:** This is the final part of "Under Attack". Sorry for the delay and length of the chapter. Writer's block's a bitch. I hope you enjoyed this chapter (more to come soon!). R&R! -  **Sakura123**


	12. Rodimus vs. Dropkick

For hulking piece of reinforced steel, Owen was amazed the how fast the man-eating tank actually was. His long thunderous steps 'caused the ground to tremble, the fact that Owen's legs refused move any faster to work past their injuries, didn't help his chances of escaping either. He was practically skipping down the street at this point, praying his legs wouldn't give out on him. Owen ran through oncoming traffic that screeched to a halt at the sight of the upright tank, the confused populace on the sidewalks poured out into the streets, screaming.

He tried desperately to avoid them, but they came at him like a wave, throwing him off balance; Now he was feeling like a rock being chipped away by jackhammer, every push he used against the crowd was sent right back at him by one or more people. He clenched his teeth, trying with all his might to hold back a terrified scream as he was pushed further away from safety and closer toward the Decepticon.

Dropkick scanned the mass of bodies for his target, his targeting system locked onto human without incident; the marker he placed on the boy's clothing glowed bright red. Raising his arm, Dropkick began to charge his cannon; he felt a jolt n his spark when the boy turned and regarded him, the quickening whir of his weapon excited him even more. Just as Dropkick fired his weapon, a force bombarded his side.

He roared as his blast was veered away from its intended target into a building. The building exploded outward across the crowd, Owen felt himself being pulled down by several people as they ducked down to protect themselves against the debris raining down over them. He felt the tiny pieces of glass cutting across his exposed skin, his head felt like it was being attacked by a thousand bee stingers. He fell into a crouched position, throwing his arms over his head in a futile attempt to protect his skull.

Dropkick could barely contain his rage as his attacker scrambled off of him, turning around he found himself faced with Rodimus once again. The Autobot did not wait for his enemy to rise to his feet, without hesitation he fired his plasma cannon on the weaker parts of Dropkick's armor. The Decepticon went down before he could rise to his feet. Hot Rod paid little attention to the humans across from them, they were moving away from the battle area, save one who remained crouched on the ground. Zooming in he studied the human figured closely, immediately he recognized the boy as Owen. "Are you alright?" He shouted to the human, not realizing he was speaking in cybertronian.

Owen flinched at the harsh voice above. "Please don't kill me! I don't wanna die!" He sobbed, trembling. Rodimus felt his spark twitch at the absolute fear in the boy's voice, but at least he was alright. He'll be even better when you get rid of Dropkick. Retracting his cannon Hot Rod prepared to rush headlong toward Dropkick. As his weapon charged, the familiar sound of sirens screamed through his audio processors. Unthinkingly he turned his attention away from Dropkick to focus on the approaching sound.

The police cruiser was barreling through all obstacles in its way, Hot Rod didn't need to zoom in with his optics to know that it was Barricade. "Slag- ugh!" Rodimus grunted as he body was thrown forward by a force that came from behind. Casting an astonished look over his shoulder, he found Dropkick staring up at him with a triumphant look in his optics, his gaze ventured down further. Immediately, he recognized the two intertwining cables that attached themselves to the center of his back. "Stupid Autobot," Dropkick sneered. A million profane sayings sprang to mind, Rodimus could just imagine the tongue lashing he'd get from Kup he if knew how big he just fowled up.

Rodimus reached to yank the chargers from his back the very moment Dropkick fired up his weapon. In that instant all thought vanished from Hot Rod's mind; his body was alight with the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his three hundred year life span.

He could feel the electrical currents shooting out of every open space in his body, could feel it shutting down as his systems began to overheat. Hot Rod could do nothing to stop himself from falling into status lock, his body hit the ground with a loud bang.

Dropkick felt an overwhelming surge of satisfaction watching the burnt husk of his enemy tumble to the ground like a lifeless protoform. Climbing to his feet, he assessed the damage inflicted upon him. The Autobot hit all the weakest spots of his armor, luckily he missed anything terribly vital to his mobility or survival. He hissed at the sight of the smoking plasma holes. Stupid Autobot. He thought kicking prone figure. Barricade rolled up beside the fallen Autobot and transformed. "Is he dead?" He inquired, strolling past him. Dropkick scanned Rodimus' systems.

After a moment he stopped he and turned to Barricade. "Status lock," He reported unhappily. Barricade paused over the trembling fleshbag, bending over only slightly he picked the creature up by its clothing. It screamed, limbs lashing out helplessly through the air. Barricade twisted the fabric between his claws fingers to get a look at the human's face. Owen felt his breathing become erratic as he came face to face with the Decepticon. He watched the 'ornery' expression on the robots face flicker to what he could describe as recognition.

"The fleshling from before," He growled, bringing Owen closer. "Before?" Dropkick repeated, moving away from Rodimus. Owen's mouth flapped open and close like a fish begging for air, Barricade glared at him, wondering how the creature could've survived the collision between itself and Bonecrusher. Now they really had to kill it. Dropkick watched Barricade toss the human away from them, Owen landed on top of a car, the air was knocked out of his lungs on impact, he felt the glass shatter and give way beneath his weight. Shit, why don't they just kill me now? He mused as he lost consciousness.

* * *

**(TBC)**


	13. Reinforcements

Bumblebee wasn't sure what emotion whirred greater within him. The relief of coming across Mikaela and Sam, halfway out of the city as he and Arcee began to enter it, or the dread to learning that Hot Rod and his charge were being perused by Decepticons (or in Rodimus' case, perusing Decepticons that were after his human charge, Owen).

Mikaela and Sam were speaking so fast and at once, that he wasn't sure whose story was correct. "Alright, get inside," Bumblebee's door opened. Sam and Mikaela scrambled inside without question, the sound of their erratic breathing came in loud and clear over his receptors, dragging up memories of the time he attempted evade Barricade. Once they were situated in the front and buckled in, Bumblebee headed down the road, with no regard for the speed limit.

Arcee followed after him, doing her best to keep up with his pace. " _Are you sure this is a good idea? Bringing them?"_  Arcee's voice rattled over his communicator. Sam regarded the twisting radio knobs with curiosity, his eyes shifted toward his window and stared at the pink vehicle coming up beside his partner.

"Yes, they'll be able to get to Owen far quicker than we can. I'll protect them," Bumblebee answered, confidence brimming in his voice. Arcee wasn't one to doubt her own commander, but found herself wondering just how well he would be able to protect these fragile beings from the Decepticons when locked in battle? To separate his attention on two tasks would be dangerous to his own well being, the Decepticons would definitely capitalize on it and use it to their advantage. "I'll look after them, you take care of the Decepticons," Arcee said.

"I'll need help, Arcee. I'm picking up Barricade and Dropkick's signatures," Bumblebee grunted, turning the corner.

"What about Rodimus?"

There was a stretch of silence from Bumblebee, Sam and Mikaela wondered if he was thinking the same thing that crossed their own minds upon his silence. They didn't know this Rodimus character, but if he was the same mech that helped them escape, while battling with the two Decepticons in the school yard, then there was a real chance he'd been taken out. Sam certainly hoped that wasn't the case. "Commander? Bumblebee?" Arcee's voice came over the scout's radio clearer than before, almost as if she were sitting in the car.

There was a low whine from Bumblebee, Sam had heard his friend do this enough times to know this wasn't a sad whine, but a frustrated one. "I think… he's present. The signature's faint, but I think it's his," Bumblebee affirmed, concern evident in his tone. "He's in trouble." Mikaela glanced to Arcee's vehicle mode, the hologram of the biker woman flickered violently until she vanished from sight. Bumblebee moved aside to allow Arcee the right of way, tires squealing, she pulled away from her commander. Sam watched the scene unfold before him, confused. "Um, shouldn't we be stopping her?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, she looked ready to do something crazy," Mikaela mused, tucking her hair behind her ears. The Camaro seemed to pick up his speed, Sam clutched the arm of his chair and watched the world become a blur. "Arcee won't do anything rash, I don't think," Bumblebee relayed to his charge.

"And your sure of this?" Sam said, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Bumblebee finally said after a moment. Sam and Mikaela braced themselves as the car entered the battle torn streets of Tranquility.

* * *

Given their circumstances, Barricade was quite tempted to sever the head of Dropkick right then and there. The fool was actually taking the time to try and sever the fallen Autobot's arm from the rest of his form, when they really should've been leaving. What's more, he (Barricade) wasn't insisting on departing either, which complicated things even more.

Was he actually hoping that foolish Autobot scout would happen across them, assuming Thunderblast didn't kill him, so he could finish the fight they started so long ago? Tapping the edge of his chin, Barricade the studied the unconscious human with mild interest. Its body very nearly inside the parked vehicle via the sunken windshield. Technically, it shouldn't have survived its first counter with Bonecrusher, yet here it was; Alive, albeit barley, and in one piece.

Procrastinating, Barricade, your procrastinating, he thought to himself. Raising his arm, Barricade aimed his cannon on the boy, fully prepared to exterminate him when a crackle in communicator distracted him. "Barricade, Barricade do you read? It was Thunderblast. Barricade lowered his gun, frustrated. Was the universe bent on denying him the simplest of pleasures with constant interruptions? "What do you want, irritant?" Barricade growled.

"The Autobots…they-"

"You failed to kill the scout," Barricade groused, cannon whirring in response to his anger.

"Yes. I was taken by surprise by the sharp-shooter, Arcee," Thunderblast groaned. "The scout put me in status lock but my systems managed to override it-"

"Nevermind you. Where are the Autobots?" Barricade interjected.

"Unknown," Thunderblast answered. Barricade rolled his optics, if the fembot had no idea where they were there was a good chance they were searching for them  _and_  or their comrade. Suddenly, Barricade didn't feel like dealing with them anymore. "What of Thundercracker?" He asked.

"I don't know, I haven't been able to-"

"Thundercracker is dead. This scum extinguished his Spark," Dropkick rumbled, disdain obvious his tone. Barricade regarded the unconscious Autobot with glowering optics. One of three of his reinforcements were down and with the way things were going, he doubted Starscream would be returning anytime soon to turn the tide in their favor. If ever. The coward. Retracting his cannon he turned to leave, Dropkick watched him go, his beady optics followed the semi-dejected posture in his temporary leader's posture. "Your leaving?" He blurted, incredulously. Barricade barely raised his head to regard Dropkick. Instead, he transformed back to vehicle mode and proceeded down the street. If there was anything his close call with Optimus Prime taught him, it was never to underestimate an Autobot. Given their relatively small numbers, the Decepticons had no chance of defeating them together until they were at full strength.

Dropkick blinked in disbelief, looking down at the red Autobot then to his former human prey, Dropkick relinquished his hold on Rodimus' arm. He'd only managed to detach a few of the wires from their system, he would come back later to get it another time. Rising from his crouched position, the cumbersome Decepticon made stomped away from the scene of disaster, suddenly wishing he'd picked a lighter vehicle to disguise himself with.

* * *

Optimus Prime had never felt so tired in his life, and all from thinking. After sending Bumblebee off on the recon mission, his processor kept him up for the better part of the night musing over the identity of their Autobot comrade. How were they able to fly under the radar for so long? He would've thought for sure that they would've tried to contact them. At least he knew Arcee would, so why didn't they? It troubled the leader for hours.

Sometime during the afternoon, Prime found himself waking to the sound of Ratchet announcing that Ironhide returned to the Lennox's residence two cycles ago, and would remain there until something happened. "Apparently, our company isn't good enough for anymore," Ratchet joked, amused by the weapons specialist eagerness to return and guard the Lennox residence. Optimus paid little mind to the restlessness of Ironhide, old friend had been known to get bored during long intervals of peace.

When Optimus inquired about the status of Bumblebee's mission, Ratchet replied, "He hasn't reported in at all, Prime," The concern in medical officer's tone did not go unnoticed by Optimus, which only fueled his own worry. Bumblebee not reporting in could only mean he ran into trouble. Pulling his legs from over the edge of the lookout, Optimus strolled down the hill and attempted to raise his friend. He got no response, Optimus tried six more times before giving up. "Something must've happened," He grumbled. "Its not like Bumblebee to not radio in and give a status report."

"Perhaps he just forgot to turn on his COM link, Prime," Ratchet offered, knowing it was highly unlikely. Optimus ignored the comment and prepared to try and raise Bumblebee again when the yellow Autobot's voice crackled over his communicator. "Bumblebee to Optimus, do you read? Bumblebee to-"

"This is Prime, Bumblebee. What is it?" Optimus responded, perhaps a tad too eagerly. Ratchet hid the mildly amused expression on his face as he proceeded over to the flatten patch of grass, more or less curious about its malleable structure. Half way into a crouch, Ratchet was stopped short by the abrupt "What?" from his leader. Sighing inwardly, he rose and approached the Prime once more.

"…to Luke air Force base. I've already contacted Ironhide, he'll be here within four hours," Bumblebee's voice relayed.

"Very well, Bumblebee. We'll meet you there," Optimus ended the transmission.

"What is it?" He inquired. Optimus turned to face his friend, concern evident in his gaze. "Bumblebee's made contact with Arcee… and Rodimus," Optimus said. Ratchet's optics widened at this. Primus, the last he heard of Hot Rod he'd just released him from the med bay, after the death of Hardhead. Sufficed to say, Ratchet was surprised the reckless young bot had survived this long. "Are they alright?"

"Arcee and Bumblebee are unharmed, as are Sam and Mikaela," Optimus relayed, pinching the bridge of his 'nose'. am and Mikaela? What on earth were they doing there…? Ratchet pondered, scratching his chin. Noticing the hesitance in his friend's expression, the medic gave him a gentle nudge, nevermind his personal space. "But…?" He pressed, with a slight flourish of the hand. Optimus sighed. "Rodimus was damaged in battle, as was his human charge."

"Are they alive?"

"Rodimus is in status lock, Bumblebee tells me the human has sustained non-fatal injuries but has been taken to see a medic," Optimus said. Ratchet nodded his head understandingly, processing the information that had been relayed to him. Without another word spoken the two Autobots transformed and proceeded down the stretch of dirt road in silence. That was six hours ago. Now Prime found himself staring down at the young Autobot lieutenant he barely had the time to get to know on Cybertron with a heavy heart. He stood next to Ratchet as he examined Hot Rod's arm with a grim expression.

Across from them, Sam, Mikaela, Bumblebee, Arcee and Ironhide observed from a distance. There had been considerable tension between the Autobots and military when they arrived on the scene in the ruined city. Bumblebee had to keep Arcee from kicking the Sergeant-Major in charge when he chewed them out for "making a mess of the city again". Mikaela and Sam accompanied Owen on the ambulance back to the base, Bumblebee ordered Arcee to follow after them and contact Ironhide, while he went to search for the Decepticons, leaving the military to clean up the bodies and general chaos.

He had a feeling they didn't want his help anyway. He must've scanned for their signatures twice over as he traveled through the untarnished parts of the city, all the way back to the school grounds, but there was no sign of them. Frustrated, he headed for the air force base and contacted Prime. In the meantime, he watched and listened to the news theorize on what could've happened in the downtown district of Tranquility, its connection the attack on the high-school Sam went to and the reason behind the "massive" military presence, not allowing them entrance into the incident sites. When Optimus arrived, he divulged all that he knew on the situation and Arcee was more than happy to explain her (and Rodimus') side of the tale up until now. To say the least, the mixture of surprise and dismay on Prime's face was amusing.

"Well, how is he, Ratchet?" Said Optimus. Ratchet looked up from his examination of Hot Rod's arm with a sigh. "Near as I can tell, he's gonna need extensive repairs for this arm. Whoever did this wasn't exactly being careful with the circuitry," The medical officer mused, laying the dangling limb back on the table. "As for the rest of him? Most the damage he sustained is structural, it should heal with time. The spark is intact, his memory core and his Energon source is unharmed as well."

"Can you get him out stasis lock?" Ironhide asked, cannons twirling idly. Ratchet shrugged his shoulders. "I might be able to once I repair his arm. I think he just needs to recharge."

"Young punk probably wasn't paying attention again," Ironhide grumbled. Arcee started to protest when Bumblebee raised his hand, now was not the time for arguing. Optimus moved away from the make-shift medical table and approached Sam and Mikaela. "And what of the boy? How does he fare?" He said.

Sam and Mikaela exchanged wary glances, almost as if they were silently debating who would tell Optimus the news on Owen. However, a single nudge forward from Mikaela compelled Sam to speak. "The doctors said a bunch of his injuries were no worse than contusions to the head and a fractured leg, the rest of his injuries were superficial, I guess," Sam explained. Optimus nodded his head sagely, arms unconsciously moving behind him. His blue optics shifted upward again, focusing completely on Bumblebee.

"Were you able to find Dropkick or Barricade?" He asked. Bumblebee shook his head, frustration reading clear in his optics for the first time since he arrived on the air force base. "No, and that's puzzling part. Barricade I could see falling off the grid, it's what he does," Bumblebee groused. "But Dropkick is another issue entirely, he's not that crafty."

"Or that small," Arcee mumbled.

"True," Bumblebee agreed. Ratchet pulled himself away from the fried circuitry of Rodimus' arm to engage in the current conversation. "Perhaps he found alternative vehicle mode?" He offered, lowering his head again.

"What, something the size of a tank?" Sam proclaimed. Ironhide shrugged his shoulders. "Do you not have vehicles equal in size to a tank?" He asked, moving toward Sam. Sheepishly, Sam shrugged his shoulders, in his mind the biggest vehicle man could own was a tank. The only thing that could out match it in size was - well, a airplane. "I dunno, maybe," He mumbled. A moment of silence befell the group before a the snap and hiss of wires being wielded together by Ratchet brought them out of their stupor.

"Either way," Optimus sighed, "We'll need to find him." The Autobots nodded in agreement, moving out of the semi-circle they had created around their two smaller comrades the very same moment Epps and Lennox came strolling into the hangar. Optimus regarded the two men briefly as they approached, unable to miss the underlying irritation that played on their otherwise stoic expressions. The two men had been on duty for more than 48 hours straight since the Mission City battle, working with their Government on the combative details of their budding alliance, feeling that, if anyone were to work with the Autobots, it should at least be someone who's fought alongside them. Optimus felt hopeful the alliance, once finalized, would work, If only because of their presence.

"Captain Lennox, Sergeant Epps," Optimus greeted.

"Optimus," Lennox said.

"What's up?" Epps' response was equally as short, but he was quick to focus his attention on Bumblebee. "Find the Decepticons?"

"Unfortunately no, they seemed to have disappeared," Arcee answered. Both Epps and Lennox turned to regard the Autobot of obvious feminine design, who stood just a few inches shorter than Bumblebee. Neither men had a chance to properly introduce themselves to the new comers, as they were swept up in damage control in the city. "Captain, Sergeant, this is Arcee. a our sharp shooter. She has been here on Earth for over a year, prior to our arrival," Prime explained. Arcee stepped forward, gracious enough to leave breathing room between herself and the two wary soldiers as she lowered herself into a crouched position.

"How do you do?" Arcee said, extending her hand. "very pleased to make your acquaintance." The two friends regarded each other for a moment, then without hesitation extended their own hands and allowed the Autobot to engulf them in her much larger one. The scene was enough to send Mikaela into a fit of giggles. Arcee rose from her crouched position and returned to Bumblebee's side. Will examined his hand for a second, then managed to crack a embarrassed smile. "Nice to meet you too, Arcee," He replied. Epps grunted in agreement.

Optimus continued, turning towards Ratchet and the large make-shift medical table. "The one on the medical table is Rodimus-"

"Hot Rod for shot," Ratchet piped up, wincing as another spark jumped up from the unconscious Autobot's mangled arm.

"-Officially, my second lieutenant on Cybertron. He too, has been living on earth with Arcee, protecting the young boy, Owen Armstrong. We had no idea of either allies presence until now."

"If you have anyone to thank for keeping the Decepticons from ruining your city any more than it was, it's him," Bumblebee chimed in.

"We'll, be sure to thank him," Epps mused, scratching the back of his head.

"How is Owen, by the way?" Mikaela inquired, moving away from the two scouts and her boyfriend. "That's what we came in to tell you guys about, actually," Lennox blurted. "He's awake, he's asking for you two."

Really?" Mikaela smiled, allowing her relief to shine through her worried exterior for the first time since they arrived. "That's great-"

"He's also this close to being pumped with sedatives," Robert added, creating the small space between his thumb and finger. "He's freaking out." The smile on Mikaela's face fell as she turned to share a look with Sam. Without warning, the two ran out of the hangar and toward the medical center.

* * *

Hot Rod blinked at the impressive show of his mentor's prowess as he watched Devastator struggle to free himself from underneath the massive column, failing to free his arms from the broken power cables that managed to wrap themselves around him. Rodimus had foolishly taken on the combined Decepticon in an effort to distract him long enough to allow Springer and a Injured Ultra Magnus time enough to escape without incident. 

The end result was a damaged optic and non-functioning right arm, but Rodimus wasn't about to admit defeat. In a last ditch effort to stop Devastator, Hot Rod had planned on destroying the central energy core that kept the cities powered; It was a huge, and altogether stupid idea, but Rodimus wasn't dumb enough to think that he could defeat the combined Constructicons without major firepower.

As he prepared to fire his plasma cannon at the core, a explosion erupted above both Transformers. Rodimus looked up in time to recognize the object plummeting fast toward them was a column used to keep the building rooftop suspended above its fellow 'bots. Never once sparing Devastator a glance, Hot Rod jumped out of the way. Devastator didn't know what hit him until he was underneath the oppressive object. A second later, Kup landed next to him, grumbling all sorts of profanities under his breath.

Rodimus let out a long whistle, flashing the veteran Autobot a goofy grin. "I've gotta say, Kup, I'm impressed!" He proclaimed, admiring the pathetic state of the Decepticon as if he'd taken him out himself and not Kup. "Not bad for an old timer."

"Old timer?" Kup heaved, offended. Hot Rod knew right then and there he said the wrong thing. "That's something you'll never be if you don't get your aft in gear, lad." His tone was more reprimanding than angry, Hot Rod wasn't exactly sure if he was supposed to be relieved or afraid because of it. Kup started to move away from him, when the sound of the power cables snapping brought his attention back to Devastator.

The behemoth growled, soulless optics glowing an eerie red as he took aim on the younger Autobot. Rodimus stood dumbstruck in the face of Devastator's cannon. "Look out, lad!" Kup shoved the Autobot out of the way the moment the Constructicon fired its weapon. Hot Rod went tumbling across the uneven ground, he attempted to right himself but was unable to halt his momentum.

The strength of Devastators cannon, destroyed the surrounding area, Hot Rod was blown off the cliffside and thrown into the abyss below. Kup was swallowed up by the explosion above. "No, Kup! Kup!" He shouted, plummeting into the darkness  "KUP!"

* * *

Out of all the things Ratchet expected, what he didn't expect to be confronted with were a pair of optics fit for a Decepticon. And in the body of an Autobot.

* * *

**(TBC)**


	14. Chapter XIV: When all is said and done

_(May 2010):_

* * *

Owen sat quietly among the soldiers on the V-22 Osprey, eyeing their stoic expressions as the aircraft was rocked by the turbulent winds outside. His stomached rolled a few times; he swallowed against his gag reflex and cast a wary glance toward Master Sergeant Robert Epps. There wasn't a hint of discomfort on the man's face; the same could be said of Major Lennox and Captain Graham McTavish.

There were a couple of soldiers who were too preoccupied to in their conversations to maintain the "army strong" façade; others seemed content with eying the sleek vehicle parked in the middle of the aircraft. Hot Rod, bless him, didn't mind the preying eyes or the occasional kicks to the tires as some of the soldiers asked him questions about his origins or model.

Much to Owen's chagrin he shed the original frame design of the 1967 GT500 for its latest model (the 2009 GT500), a consequence which resulted in a prolonged silent treatment and longwinded explanation to his mother about how he acquired an extremely expensive car with no paperwork to show for it. The last thing Hot Rod wanted to do was get Owen in trouble (let alone hurt his feelings), but he wasn't a car, he was a sentient being in disguise.

His form was his to dictate and by that point he was tired of catering to Owen's security blanket. "I'm sure you can buy another car," Hot Rod said in attempt to make amends. What he got was one angry, sidelong look. "Money doesn't grow on trees, Hot Rod, and that car is extremely rare," It was the only time Owen had broken his code silence to speak to him.

His reactions to transformers in general were troubling; on one level he accepted them -because, what else could he do? - on the other, he was still terrified of them. Hot Rod considered Bumblebee and the others lucky that Witwicky and Banes had been so accepting of them, he was having a hard cajoling Owen into relaxing around him. "It's a wonder that boy isn't on medication for bad nerves," Arcee mused. Still, he was patient and he would wait. He was not about to break a fragile trust with impatience, not this far in the game.

The Osprey landed at the airbase, Owen waited for the soldiers to depart from the plane, no desire to be trampled on by men twice his size and weight. When he and Hot Rod were the only ones on the plane, he rose from the bench and headed down the ramp of the cargo hold. The busy energy of the base was more than little overwhelming, he found himself more concerned with catching the wrong end of a bullet than a Deception attack (and he was aware of base regulation). Off in the distance he could see the slight figure of Mikaela Banes embracing the likes of Lennox and Epps, motor oil smeared on her right cheek, hair pulled up into a pony tail. His heart jumped a little in his chest; of all the people he expected to be here, it wasn't her.

"Finally, freedom!" Owen turned around in time to catch Hot Rod roll out of the Osprey at top speed and screech to halt; in quick succession he transformed and stretched his arms and legs. "I thought we'd never get here!" He did a little dance and turned to regard Owen. The boy wore an awestruck expression on his for a second before exhaling in exasperation. Hot Rod frowned, and walked toward him. "Hey, don't freak out, I was just having some fun," Hot Rod said. Owen nodded understandingly. "I know, I just haven't gotten used to the sound of your feet," Owen explained as he moved forward.

"Hey, what's wrong with my feet?" Hot Rod inquired, indignant. "They're nice feet." He flexed the claws he called toes to exemplify their niceness to his partner.

"If you haven't noticed, their kinda big and loud; no offense to you, but I feel the earth shaking under me and I think earthquake," Owen answered. Hot Rod rolled his eyes with a sigh; this boy was more high strung than Ultra Magnus was. The two crossed the distance of the airfield, observing the general interaction between soldier and transformer as they went about their daily routine; Hot Rod had been in recovery for the better part of 2007 after emerging from stasis lock.

Ratchet had done what he could for his arm, but the rest was up to him and a little tweaking of his own. Everyone had been alarmed when he woke and his optics were red; he didn't remember much of waking up, but in words of his superior officer, he tried to use his mangled arm to attack Ratchet and failed miserably in the endeavor. He couldn't move with his injuries and that was blessing in disguise, trust wise. Ironhide always made sure to remind him of his colorful "Die Autobot!" commentary before he was put back into stasis lock by their medic.

In a measly attempt to maintain his fractured pride, Rodimus revealed that the time on the Quintesson's planet was a spent in other ways besides general imprisonment. Fully aware of their planet and the factions within, they saw Rodimus has an opportunity to experiment with conditioning Autobots and Deceptions with radical behavioral patterns; "Basically, they scrambled my interface and tried to change my allegiance with a transmuter just to see if they could do it."

"And did it?" He remembered Optimus asking.

"Yeah, until I ran into one some electrified bars," He recounted. "Then I was all mixed up." The behavioral tampering was overridden, but it took a fair amount of time to get his programming back on track and his personality chip back online to its original default. By the time he did, he reunited with Arcee and escaped the planet. "Every now and again, their programming rears its head, mostly when I get angry or someone frags me like Dropkick did. I Never did take the time to sort out my server."

Fast as an Autobot healed, there were some things that couldn't be erased, and this was one of them, primarily because of his own apathy. He never wanted to tell Arcee what happened to him and he never saw it particularly prudent to mess with his interface. He trusted himself enough to keep his temper in check and his head cool; he just didn't count on getting shot in the back by Dropkick. "You know, I used to be about your size when I was a youngling," Hot Rod started conversationally.

"You mean, you weren't born that size?"

"Of course not! No one's born this big, except maybe the Big Bot, but I'm speculating here," Hot Rod rambled. "Yeah, we start off young and tiny like you and we grow up, provided we get plenty of Energon."

"Huh," Owen was genuinely surprised. "You learn something new every day."

"Hey, Kup told me something like that once," Hot Rod laughed.

"Who's Kup?"

"He was my mentor back on Cybertron," Hot Rod answered.

"He's… he's not dead is he?" Owen knew it was a stupid question to ask; the very somber expression on his friend's face spoke in volumes, yet he found the words coming out of his mouth anyway. Rodimus nodded slowly. "Yeah, he was killed by Devastator."

"That huge Constructicon the others fought last year?"

Rodimus nodded again. "Y-yeah; I'm glad the others killed it. It was a long time ago, but-"

"Hey, I get it, touchy subject, sorry I pried," Owen apologized.

"Don't be, I brought him up after all and you were only curious, it's natural," Rodimus argued. "He was a great bot and pretty spry for an old timer. Taught me everything I know about fighting. Everything reminded him of some old conflict he participated in; at the time it was exasperating, but I miss it now." His hand reached up and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I'll tell you some more later."

"Alright, I'd like that," Owen smiled.

Mikaela was decidedly glad to see them when they finally reached the hangar, she closed the distance between them and embraced Owen in a hug. He returned the show of affection in kind, ignoring Rodimus' snickering in the background. Mikaela pulled away from Owen and punched Hot Rod's shin gently. "Don't tease," She said, "how've you two been? I haven't seen you awhile."

Owen shrugged; talking to Mikaela had become considerably easier the longer he remained in her company; during his recovery from the second Decepticon attack he experienced, she chatted with him over the video camera which made him feel considerably less lonely in his stuffy bedroom (Rodimus' looming presence aside).

"I'm alright, Hot Rod's been keeping on my feet and I've been taking care of myself," Owen paused. "More or less, anyways. What about you? I haven't from you in well over a year." The last they'd spoken she was praising the very likes God because Sam had confessed his loved for her. Almost six months later, she left him an e-mail that briefly explained something about "family problems" and disappeared from the face of the earth.

Now she was here, looking no worse for wear and sunny as usual. "I'm okay, Owen, just had to sort out some personal stuff at home," She answered, casting a look over her shoulder.

"How's Bones?" Owen asked as he and Hot Rod followed her line of sight, Bumblebee and Optimus were approaching. "Bones' is alright, he's chilling with dad back at the garage. Maybe, I'll tell you about it later," She finished. Owen grinned and nodded, trying his best not to shoot Hot Rod a look when he started chuckling. What did he think was so funny?

The second lieutenant saluted his commanding officers. "Commander Bumblebee, Big Bot," He grinned. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise, Rodimus," Bumblebee replied with a nod of his head. "How goes the recovery?"

"Done and processed! With the exception a little kinks here and here, this bot is as good as new," Rodimus replied. "Hey, I heard about what went down in Egypt; wish I coulda been there for you guys."

Optimus shook his head with a dismissive wave of his large hand. "You'd been no good to us injured, Hot Rod. I'm simply glad it's all over." At the young bot's shrug, Optimus could only wonder how much of the situation he knew about. Knowing that he blamed himself for Hardhead's death on Cybertron, Optimus could only fathom what his reaction would've been had he learned of his momentary death.

"How's Arcee? I haven't seen her in a megacycle," Hot Rod said.

"She's fine, the injuries sustained during the battle have healed, hers and Elita-1's," Optimus replied. "She and the others will be happy to see you."

"Oh, yeah, the Sideswipe and the others are here too!" Rodimus' eyes brightened at the very idea of reuniting with his comrades, the loneliness of his isolated recovery fading quickly into the background. Kneeling down, he nudged Owen with his finger and opened his other palm. "Hey, you wanna go meet 'em?"

"Y-yeah, but I'll walk," He answered. At Mikaela's laugh, Rodimus tried not to look too disappointed as he nodded. Rising from his crouched position he saluted to his commanding officers for a second time. "At ease, Hot Rod, we're not on duty," Optimus chuckled.

"I know, I just wanted show my respects, sir," Hot Rod answered. "If and when we are in battle, I won't let you down. I owe you that much, considering I've been off-duty for so long."

"We expect nothing less from you, Rodimus," Said Bumblebee. "No one blames you for getting injured. Now go on, we've other matters to attend to."

"Hey, I thought you guys said you weren't on duty?" Owen interjected.

"We're not, officially, but your government sees it fit check in on us daily because of the Fallen's uprising," Optimus explained. "They do not trust us."

"I hate it break it you, but, America doesn't trust anybody except Americans and even that definition is pretty loose," Owen deadpanned. "It's not in their nature to trust foreigners, especially one's they can't control."

"So I am beginning to realize," Prime breathed. Bumblebee and Optimus started off past Rodimus, nodding their farewells; Owen had no chance to watch them depart, Mikaela grabbed his hand and lead him into the hangar. There were Autobots everywhere; some were sleeping, some were talking to each other and others were polishing their weapons.

He became painfully self-aware of his own height, feeling like a stalk of grass amongst giants. Ahead of them Arcee stood at a console that appeared tailor made for the overly large hands of the machines; i.e., it was an oversized console with an even bigger screen that appeared to be monitoring Chicago. "Wait till you meet Arcee, you'll love her," Hot Rod enthused. "She's not as creepy as she would have you think."

"It's true," Mikaela supported. "She's a sweetheart." It was all Owen could do to nod in response to their excitement.

"Hey, where's that Willgiggy kid? He's usually hanging around, freaking about something," Owen gave his robot friend a pointed look. He knew Hot Rod did it on purpose, getting Sam's name wrong, but he was right; Sam usually was somewhere on the base, speaking at a mile a minute or woe-is-meing about his intrusive parents and lack of respect the government showed him for saving the world and "stuff". Not hearing his voice made the hangar feel strangely empty and pleasantly serene. There was an underline scoff from Mikaela who picked up her pace a little, "Last I heard he was job hunting in D.C.," She said.

"Eh? You mean the Pentagon didn't hire him? I mean, why wouldn't they hire him?"

"Beats me," Was Mikaela's response. "But Lennox got them to sign-off on me as a liaison between the Autobots and the Pentagon, so it's not all bad."

Owen had to laugh at that. "Your boyfriend's out of a job, but it's not all bad because you got a sweet deal?" He started to grin when he saw Mikaela's expression turn sour in a matter of moments; it was the kind of look he'd seen on his mother's face; the perpetuating reason why his parents were divorced. Affection gone sour, trust betrayed. "Oookay, I clearly hit a sore spot-"

Mikaela stopped him just few paces away from Arcee and the others, her expression diffident. "Look, it's a long story I'd rather not talk about at the workplace, okay?" Mikaela interjected. Owen nodded animatedly raising his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, gotcha. Tell whenever you're ready," He said. "Or don't." Mikaela lowered her hand from his chest, tossing her hair over her shoulders she put a smile on her lips and walked into the open hand of Arcee. "Rodimus, it's been forever," The lithe Autobot greeted her partner as she sat Mikaela on her shoulder. "How's your charge?"

"Owen's-

"-His charge is fine, thanks," Owen and Hot Rod answered at the same time. Rodimus stared down at Owen with a rueful smile and said, "It's only been two weeks since I last saw you, Arcee. Owen, on the other hand-" he kneeled down and pressed a finger behind Owen's back, pushing him closer to the bot, "-was never properly introduced to you." Owen waved to the robot standing before him, secretly in awe at her size and the fact that Mikaela was so comfortable on her shoulder. "Hi, I'm Owen," He said.

"Arcee, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Arcee extended a finger to the young man. Owen clasped his fingers around it and shook it gently, his awe becoming evident on his face. "S-Same here," He said.

This was officially the first time he would be spending any great amount of time with Autobots besides Hot Rod; the idea freaked him out more than he was letting on, but he knew they were good guys, at least as far as allegiances went.

A little voice in his head was telling him not to overreact, but memories of the past were hard to let go, especially when they weren't that long ago. Still, he would do his best not to come off as so skittish and when worse came to worse, he would just hide behind Hot Rod or Mikaela if any of them got too noisy.

* * *

**(FIN)**

* * *

**Author's Note:**  So I've finally come to the end of a story that should've been completed roughly five years ago when I first started out. It didn't quite turn out like I hoped, but overall, I'm quite satisfied with it despite things turned out for the Bayformer universe. I'm glad to have written something about my favorite Autobot (Rodimus/Hot Rod 4EVA) and I hope the characterization of Owen didn't come off as too cloying. Let me know what you thought of the story overall. Laters.


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